SurlyCrew

9 year olds with swords

2012-02-06T13:57:00.000-08:00

So this is what Max looks like in fencing class. He is completely and totally in love with this. And, for the first time in the many sports he has taken for a test drive, he is a bit of a natural. I am not saying this just because I'm his mom. I will be the first to tell you that he's got great effort and enthusiasm for soccer and football, but "natural" is NOT the word I would use.

But once he had that cute little vest and mask on (blah blah blah the technical names...), he got into his En Garde stance, and the little guy looked really good! The teacher gave him an award after the first lesson and used him to demonstrate something the second week.

Now, if this goes the way that my love affair for the flute went, he has about 3 weeks left before he is completely over it. But if not, we may have ourselves a new past time. Who knew?

Pushing myself

2012-02-03T19:29:00.000-08:00

I started with a new coach/trainer/tri-buddy a few months back. He and I got together at the beginning and he watched my form in the pool, on the track, and on the bike.

When we were done with all of that, he kinda scratched his chin. The good news was that my form was really quite good in all 3 fields. But, he said the reason I wasn't faster was, well, because I wasn't trying hard enough. When it came down to it, nothing was making me slow other than me.

So, taking that good-new-bad-news in stride, I realized I was about to spend a whole lot more time in the hurt locker. What I thought was trying hard? Nope. What I thought was my best? Wasn't.

And yesterday I ran a mile in 8:11 and then turned around 5 minutes later and ran another one in 8:05. Granted, I thought I was going to die, but I did it. And I can gehr-un-tee you I have never in my life ran back-to-back 8:anything miles. That is only 5 seconds away from a 7:something. That is freakin' crazy talk.

The idea of sustaining that pace for a whole race is something that sounds completely unrealistic, but if you told me I'd ever be in striking distance of a 7:59 minute mile...? I guess unrealistic is about to come a'knockin.

Volume

2012-02-02T07:02:00.000-08:00

Oh. My. God.

My house is so loud.

It is brain-splitting, hackle-raising, rage-inducing loud. This morning, there was nothing but shouting around the breakfast table, despite O and I telling them repeatedly to stop. And, of course, it's only a shout festival because it is also an interruption festival. You wouldn't need to shout if you weren't talking over someone (or sometwo or somethree).

I like to think I generally have some control and/or influence over these small monkeys, but sweet lord! Help! Anyone! How do I turn the volume down on 4 boys 9 and under???

I'm going to need a rubber room....

Making the jump

2012-02-01T09:43:00.000-08:00

Any of you who know O and I well know that we have spent many hours thinking about and worrying about our dear Spence. He has been the kid that came out crying and didn't really stop for the first 4 years. Frustration is met at every turn, and challenges lead to frustrations which lead to quitting which lead to meltdowns. Doing homework is frequently an exercise of tears, anger, huge frustration, and thankfully, ultimately triumph - only to be repeated the next night.

When we first met with his psychologist she started talking about defiance, and we immediately corrected her that there isn't a defiant bone in his body (however, if you would like to meet his brother Calvin...). None of this is volitional. You can tell that he is just as frustrated by it as anyone, if not more.

The wiggles never stop. This morning at breakfast he sat in 4 different chairs before finishing half of a bagel. My post about NLD seemed initially like an "answer," but I'm not sure what part of it I even believe now, other than the fact that he is an auditory learner. Much to my dismay, ADHD seems to fit the bill more.

So, we made the jump. We decided, despite our theoretical opposition to "putting every kid on ritalin," to put our kid on ritalin. The downside is potential appetite suppression and insomnia. The upside is that last night homework was still with some frustration, but no tears and it was done in half the agonizing time. We are only 3 days into this experiment, so the sample size in tiny. But if this can help even a tiny bit, and help the kid feel more "normal" and less tortured, I will consider it a monumental success. 'Cause in the end, all we want for our kids is to be happy, right?

New favorite pic

2012-01-31T07:10:00.000-08:00

I mean, seriously. Edible.

Ridiculous

2012-01-31T06:56:00.001-08:00

The littlest one was in my room the other day when I was getting dressed. We were doing our normal chatter, Leo being the chatterbox that a 3 year old tends to be.

Suddenly, he just started laughing. Full, belly laughing. He was pointing at me, thinking my brand new pink-with-white-polkadots bra, which I think is pretty snazzy, was the funniest damn thing he had ever seen.

"Mommy! You are sooooo funny! That is ridiculous!"

When seen through the eyes of a child, I looked in the mirror and realized the whole thing was kinda clownish. I couldn't help but laugh with him.

I don't think this was what Victoria had in mind...

Winter

2012-01-17T07:34:00.000-08:00

Ah, the holidays. That time you eagerly anticipate each year with images of fireplaces, gifts, family time and glowing childrens' faces.

And every year to let out a big sigh of relief when it's all over. Not because I don't love all of the above, but because I secretly love the dead of winter.

No sports.
No gift shopping.
No decorating.
No races around the corner.
Not a lot of work or social obligations.

Just me, my kids, my hubby and some homework.

I have often thought in July of how I love THIS time in January, which seems completely nuts. July is supposed to be the best time of all for a Minnesotan. But I am going to soak in the NOW. The calm is just what the doctor ordered.

Someday I'll believe it

2011-12-12T07:08:00.001-08:00

I have never been a good exerciser. The idea of just going out for a run or a bike "just cuz" is a phenomenon I truly do not understand. I must have a goal, and aim. In high school, I was very fit due to the fact that I was on the basketball team. When I quit senior year (jerkwad for a coach), I became a slug. Now I am fit because I sign up for races.

But the reality of the matter? I believe I am a slug. This is what I truly think in my inner heart of hearts. I have needed to lose weight in the past, I have become a post-partum mush ball in the past. I simply have come to believe that the fit Becca is the mirage with the chubby one always lurking in the background.

However, I might just have done this triathlon thing long enough now to slowly turn that tide. I have now been consistently exercising for 2.5 years. And my new coach, in the middle of a conversation about my training said "... and you are clearly athletic...."

Huh?

I am ?

I actually told him that I didn't believe him. And his response? "I wouldn't be you coach if I didn't truly think that."

And then yesterday, I was meeting the mom of one of Spencer's friends and she asked me if I cross-country skied. When I said no, she said "Well what do you do? You clearly do something."

Huh?

I do?

So maybe, just maybe, I can start to see myself through the eyes of others. If I do that long enough, I might just start seeing it myself.

Not Fair

2011-12-07T07:05:00.000-08:00

There were tears this morning.

Tears at the great injustices of living in this house.

Cal didn't get any cake. Mind you, this is something that occurred 2 days ago. But I think he saw the clean pan and realized it was gone for good. He didn't eat his dinner, so he didn't get any of the scrumptious chocolate yumminess I had made. At the time, he seemed OK with it.

You see, Cal doesn't eat dinner. He just doesn't find that particular meal to ever be to his liking. This morning, the tears were mixed with the heave sentance "but.... You.... don't.... make.... what... I... Liiiiiiiiiike....booohoohoohoo."

Please picture my face looking completely bored and a little irritated as I watch this scene.

Can you imagine a worse home to live in? I mean, seriously, someone call CPS.

Weekend Bliss

2011-12-04T19:34:00.000-08:00

This may have been the best weekend I have had in years. Omar and I looked at each other Saturday morning and realized we had nothing on the schedule. NOTHING. This simply never happens. There is always a beer thing or a nice 8hrs of ER, or a cabin trip, or a this or a that.

Max had skiing, but that was it.

It was so completely lovely. Omar and I decided it was time to cook ourselves silly. Yesterday's concoctions included:

- Turkey noodle soup
- Brisket Chili
- Prep for my favorite breakfast Sunday, Chiliquiles.
- Chicken Marsala with Orzo
- Braised Broccoli Rabe
- Flourless chocolate cake with Molten lava top

As we cooked, fluffy snow started to fall and the kids piled outside to sled in the back yard. We put a fire in the fire place and got the tunes pumping. We then fed the final 3 items on that food list to our dear friends who have unfortunately been dealing with TWO broken wrists from one snowboarding fall. That's right, BOTH of the wrists.

We are not above Surly through a straw.

Today, we pretty much beached ourselves with the kids and watched the Vikings get one stop closer to a high draft pick. Sometimes, life is just awesome.

Prepare your stomachs

2011-12-01T12:52:00.000-08:00

Ok, I know they say it can happen to any family. I know they say that it has nothing to do with hygiene. I know that most of my friends have gone through this at one time or another. But in 39 years of living on this planet, I have never dealt with this.

School Nurse: "Hi Rebecca. Max just came into the office and said a bug fell off his head."
Me: ".... uh...."
School Nurse: "So I did take a look and he has lice."
Me: "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggh!!!! (Shutter, spit out my coffee, convulse) No no no no no no no......"

So, after vomiting a little in my mouth, I picked him up from school, learned the ins and outs of shampooing and nit picking, and had the pleasure of calling all of my family AND the friend who had him over for a sleepover last week. That, by the way, is a really fun phone call. Did I mention this kid has the longest hair of any of Max's friends? Of course he does. And, of course, it was just Thanksgiving - that annual time of gathering with family and friends to share infestations.

Then Cal and Spence came home from school. "Please dear lord, let them be in the clear... please please please."

No such luck.

This is what my bathroom floor looked like 20 minutes later.

Crew cuts are the new black, don't ya know? And I still have to pick through the little bit of hair that is left looking for EGGS of lice. So, so, so, so gross.

Omar's silver lining to this? He finally got to shave his head again despite my previous protestations, and he found something that even I think is disgusting.

Wigs

2011-11-15T08:32:00.000-08:00

Leo and Calvin were playing around with a wig that we had in our costume box. Leo, being three, asked Calvin the ever present "Why?"

Calvin's answer: "You put on a wig when you are trying to keep your bald hairs secret."

pretty good answer....

No treat, all trick

2011-11-03T11:37:00.001-07:00

So, this disgusting little thing used to be a green koosh ball. At least that's what I think it is. How much do you think a koosh ball costs these days? Well let me tell ya. It costs:

- one visit to the regular vet
- one visit to the emergency vet
- one ultrasound
- one xray
- two IV's
- one go round of anesthesia
- intraabdominal surgery at 2am to retrieve koosh from small intestine
- a morphine drip
- anti-vomit medication
- 48 hours in the hospital
- one night of missing kids trick or treat
- one Elizabethan collar

Goulish

2011-11-02T07:03:00.000-07:00

Don't encourage him

2011-10-27T10:02:00.000-07:00

I admit it, I kinda like having a small celebrity for a husband. It's fun when people say "You are married to OMAR?!?!?" when it turns out they are big Surly fans. There is a sense of pride that he is MY man.

But now things have gone too far.

I was getting a cup of coffee the other day, wearing my Surly hat, when the gal ringing me up says "Is that a Surly hat?" Yes, yes it is. That's why it says "Surly" on it...

She then proceeds to ask about whether I went to Darkness Day or not, and how her boyfriend was there, and how he is such a big fan. I said "No, I wasn't able to make it to Darkness Day this year because I was working. But I have been in the past. My husband is actually the founder of Surly."

"REALLY?! Oh, my boyfriend is going to freak out that I met you! Omar's your husband? And he is a doctor, too, right?"

No.

No he is not.

That is me.

I am the doctor.

This is truly getting out of hand....

E-yeeeew!

2011-10-19T08:50:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows puppies like to chew on stuff. And not just any stuff. Usually the stuff you mostly don't want them to chew on.

Nyla-bones? How did that company every get big? Ruby looks down her nose at every one of their products with a "you must be kidding" look in her eye. Not that that stopped me from buying every style and texture before abandoning them (Ah ha... THAT's how they stay in business..).

Raw hides are great, but with chompers like this little lady, they last 8 minutes tops. Devoured.

So I was pretty stoked that our Pet Smart turned me on to Bully Sticks. Long, very dried out animal product that Ruby takes DAYS to get rid of, even with very aggressive hours of chewing. I have bought many packages of these now, and had decided they were the chew toy of choice for an Ansari pooch.

Then Omar had to go and look a little more carefully. Small print on the bag "Contains: Bull Pizzle"

So, in other words, we have multiple dried up bull penis's laying around the house in various stages of gnawed consumption.

'Cause that's what this house really needed. More penises.

Omar, these boys are all yours

2011-10-12T13:13:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I forget that the genetic material that went into these boys of ours is consistent, consistent stuff. When you look at your own kids every day you see their differences and their unique qualities, not their similarities.

I had to laugh, however, yesterday when I took Max to football practice with brothers in tow. One of his teammates looked into our car after Max had already hit the field and said "Hi Max!" to Calvin. Another kid saw Leo and ran out to Max to say "Your baby brother looks exactly like you!" Max's buddies seemed to think our car full of Ansaris was some sort of cool circus trick.

For example, Leo thinks this is him. It is not:

I will be curious to see what the years do....

sheesh

2011-10-11T15:59:00.000-07:00

Coming soon to a Christmas photo near you!

1) Omar with a large scratch on his nose from a boisterous puppy greeting
2) Leo with a black eye from whacking Clyde's head on the trampoline
3) Calvin with a cut under his eye from a playful game of "punch your brother" by Leo

Seriously, THIS is the week we have our annual photo session scheduled? Really? I think I'm going to buy boxing gloves for the photos and just run with it...

Yelling

2011-09-27T08:07:00.000-07:00

I have never thought of myself as a yeller. Loud? Sure. Boisterous? It has been said. But a yeller? No.

Then I had 4 children.

A few years ago, my friend Mary was telling me how she felt like all she did was yell at her kids. I just nodded, silently, thinking "well, yelling doesn't work, everyone knows that. I don't yell at my kids. And I won't. " And that was the adorable little thinking of a mother of 3, 2 of whom were still learning how to talk.

Now, I think I have her beat. Big time.

For one thing, this house is VERY VERY LOUD. Shouting is the norm simply to be heard. And the 4th little rug rat? He's the loudest of the bunch. Why wouldn't he be? He has grown up thinking decibel levels comparable to a small jet engine are the norm.

But volume alone isn't the source of the trouble. Anger and frustration has found it's way to my internal volume control. I was found yelling at Calvin last night in a room with just the two of us because he had pushed my buttons so completely and thoroughly. See, he has decided that he will simply do things his way. This will be achieved either by ignoring my instructions or outright arguing with me. I mean, come on. Why would he get ready for bed when asked? That is completely unreasonable.

Or another highlight from yesterday: I find Cal riding a friend's scooter in the middle of the road. I tell him he can't do this.
"But MOM!!!! Alexi SAID I could!!"
"Calvin, you can't play in the street."
"BUT MOM!! Alexi SAID I COULD!"
"Calvin, I heard what you said. But I am telling you that you can't. You could get hit by a car." "BUT MOMMMMMM!!"
"CALVIN! I DON'T CARE WHAT ALEXI SAID! GET OUT OF THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD!!"
(Cue the crazy Howard Dean scream)

How did I get here? I AM NOT A YELLER. Everyone knows there is no theory of parenting based on screaming. "Yelling: How to Raise Caring, Responsible Children by Acting like a Howler Monkey." Not a bestseller...

So, I think it's time to take up meditation. Or install acoustic panels over our new remodeled home. Or study the work of Yoda. I don't know....

This one has it figured out

2011-09-23T13:37:00.001-07:00

I have gone through many a battle as a mother for the last 9 years. I have done the terrible two's 4 times now, and there are endless variations of how one ends up on time out. I have heard many a scheme and deflected many a child-tactic to get their way.

I have been climbed like a mountain so many times I feel like Everest's got nothin' on me. I have had 4 boys simultaneously clawing at me, each vying for 100% of my attention. Each day brings a new way of dealing with it (some days are much more Parent Magazine approved than others...).

And just as I have strategies to deal with 4 boys, so do they for dealing with having just one mom. Max is earnest. Cal plays aloof but then wants one-on-one time. Spence just keeps climbing me... persistence has to pay off at some point, right? But it's #4 who played the trump card last night.

As has been universally true with each son, my lap is the preferred place to sit during dinner. It is also forbidden. I DON'T DO UPPIES WHEN I AM EATING. Period. No exceptions.

Leo, non-plussed with dinner last night, announces is is done about 3.4 minutes into the meal, and then he starts the dinner table satellite circles, gravitating towards my lap with each pass. As always, I quoted the above rule.

So he looks at me with bassett hound eyes and says "But I love you."

That was a new one. Dagger straight to the heart. How do you not suck that little kid up in an octopus style hug and just kiss him from head to toe??? I mean, come on!

I still made him wait till I was done eating, but MAN did he pull out a trick none of the others have figured out!

I am in trouble.

Best pic ever

2011-09-14T12:51:00.000-07:00

No more terrible two's

2011-09-11T20:28:00.000-07:00

My sweet baby boy turned three on Friday.

THREE

I know that still sounds like an itty bitty kid in the big scheme of life, but 3 is no baby either. I don't have any babies. I have all big boys now. It kinda brings a tear to my eye (or is that a tear of rage at telling these boys to stop yelling for the berjillionth time today....?).

I don't know that I will ever stop feeling like he is my baby. Leo, my man, you are an extremely happy, joyful and funny little boy. You find humor in the most basic of things, which brings laughs to the rest of us. You are kind to your brothers and your friends. You already have empathy, which is a lovely, loverly characteristic. Our family would never have been complete without you.

I love you so much little man. Welcome to Three!

Ahhhhh....

2011-09-08T11:28:00.000-07:00

... and with that, school begins.

The relief in my voice is as if I don't have my kids in summer camp every day. I know that there are other mothers with much more reason to be ecstatic that I, but I do love the start of school.

There is a structure and rhythm to it that is calming. It means fall is here, and I truly love fall. Once I get over the fact that summer is over, I fully embrace the fleece weather and sound of crunching leaves. Football is starting tonight, and soon a fire in the fireplace will be quite lovely.

So, here's to the start of yet another school year and all that comes with it.

Waiting for the bus at the Boz's

My baby

2011-08-30T13:25:00.000-07:00

These days, when I refer to "my baby," Leo is the one that everyone thinks of. Hell, even LEO thinks of Leo, frequently referring to himself as "you baby." He even gets it confused sometimes and says "Mama, you MY baby."

But the original baby, of course, is Max. He was the original Small Guy Small Fry. He is the one that got this whole hormone festival of mommahood thrust into the hyperdrive, resulting in a family of 6. But he is no baby anymore. My original baby started football last week. This is what my baby is looking like these days.

I always swore I wouldn't let my boys play football. Too dangerous, right? But, due to a stroke of luck/reality for them, I became an ER doctor. And ya know what? I have taken care of ONE football related injury. One. I have been doing this now for 10 years (in contrast, I would now NEVER let my boys play hockey), so it appear my nightmares of maimed and bloodied children are a little overblown.

But the true horror of football? The gear. Now, I have never done this before, but am I supposed to remove the pads of the pants before washing? 'Cause I might just lose my mind (as if I wasn't at the brink already) if that is the routine. There are 7 pads in a pair of pants. Each a specific side and shape and curvature. All of which need to be placed while the pants are inside out. After today's laundry test of doom, I felt like I would rather take the MCAT again.

And the cup? I firmly believe I should have nothing to do with that. Not centrally, not peripherally, not in any way at all. However, given that my husband didn't do contact sports himself, this is a land of mystery to him as well. So, he actually turned to me last week and asked "What kind of underwear should I buy for Max to wear with his cup?" REALLY?!? You are asking ME? Dude, I'm not a dude! I don't have the gear that requires buying the gear! You MUST be kidding!

But Max made it to (and through) the first practice, all appropriate gear present and accounted for. And he continues to like it even after being tackled. I just make one request... Please don't crush my Small Guy.

Must we?

2011-08-25T07:31:00.000-07:00

Ah, developmental stages. They are grand, aren't they? Like the fact that at the beginning of 1st grade, it's APPROPRIATE for the little 6 year olds in my life to think about nothing but themselves and not others. It's natural for them to want the biggest treat without offering it to others.

I can deal with that and try to roll with it.

But why must we go through to "I am refusing to get dressed" stage with the 2 1/2 year old? Why, oh why is that necessary. Is there some magical brain synapse that will only form if this daily battle is fought? Must there be screams of protest when daddy attempts to assist instead of mommy? This is one little step in the pediatric yellow brick road that I would rather skip.

But, I am not above bribery. Today, we had great happiness in the land because a jelly bean was promised if Leo could get 'er done without assistance. And since no good dead goes unpunished, I was rewarded for this stroke of genius with 3 older boys looking at me with outstretched hands as well. "We got dressed all by ourselves too mom...."

Sure! Jelly beans for all. Can we keep it a secret, however, that this was after a breakfast comprised of the donuts Mary brought over...?

2yr old talk

2011-08-23T19:38:00.000-07:00

Leo is the master of the mixed up vowel sounds.

On Friday, he is going to have a Jabama party at daycare. I mean, who wouldn't want to go to school in their jabamas?

New member of the family

2011-08-16T09:29:00.000-07:00

Now that we have successfully surprised my brother's family, I can post pictures of our new family member! (You know, cause we got nothin' else to do....)

Ruby!

Max taking Spencer for a walk...

Dock Dog

Water sounds

2011-07-29T08:12:00.001-07:00

The lesson of the day? When you hear the sound of water that just seem a little odd, you really should investigate sooner than later.

It sounds like the bathroom sink, but louder.

It's just the bathroom sink, right?

Well, kind of. What that noise is is the bathroom sink when a milk jug has been forced under the spigot by a 2 year old, turned on at a high rate of fill, overflowed the jug, and is now shooting up onto the mirror, filling the countertop, and flooding the floor and the cabinetry under the sink.

That's what that sound is.

Oh, and don't forget the sounds of the 2 year old running around with a sopping wet hand towel saying "I'm cleaning it up, mama! I'm cleaning it up!" At least he tried...

Chisago - The Half Ironman

2011-07-28T08:00:00.000-07:00

Well, check it off the list!

I am, officially, a Half Ironman finisher. And you know what? It wasn't that bad.Now don't get me wrong. I don't know if I will ever do it again! I might, once I have fewer small children in my daily routine, but not soon. It's gonna be a long post, but here is how it all played out.After the kids race (see below), the kids all head home and Jon, Nathan and I headed to our hotel rooms to start the long wait until game time. We hung out in their room, talked about the race and other things, and just generally tried to stay low key. We had dinner at the local "supper club" which was characterize not only with steak and mashed potatoes, but also potato skins and jalepeno poppers. Nathan's "gravy" could be best described as being a member of the Jello family, but we all left with full bellies and a need to try to get to bed early.

The alarm went off at 4:20 after a fitful night of sleep. We headed towards the race at 5am because Jon is a little nutty about getting there early. It turns out this was wise, because we got a little lost. We set up all of our stuff in the transition area and donned the wet suits.

Nathan

Jon

We were all ready when the games began and I stood on the beach at 6:50 trying to just remember the basics: stay calm, race your own race, don't go out too fast.

At 7:07, I entered the water. It was incredibly foggy. I knew what the course looked like from the day before, but for the entirety of the race you could barely see the very next buoy, nothing more. So after a while, I started saying to myself "the next one is the turn around..." and then I realized there was one more. Rinse and repeat 4 or 5 more times. FINALLY we were turning around, and the rest of the swim went quickly. 42 minutes after I set in, I was running up the beach toward my bike. I felt great.I set out on the ride in what was still a cool and gray morning. I wasn't cold, but any cooler would have been bordering on uncomfortable. This was FAR preferable to the scorching heat that had been leading up the race. Around mile 13 I saw a sign for one of the Chisago county roads and just seeing the word "Chisago" made me have a complete reality check. This wasn't just some practice ride. THIS was my half Ironman. I was THERE. I was doing this, and felt really good! Then I burst into tears.I pulled myself together and carried on. I had to stare fully in the face of the fact that I am not a fast cyclist. I was passed again and again and again. And I just let it go. I had to ride MY race, not anyone else's, and I still had 13miles to run. If I started trying to bust out some fast bike split time, my goose would be cooked on the run. So, I just kept on pedaling. Nathan came up behind me around mile 17, and it was great to see his smiling and ever-positive face. By mile 28, I could tell myself it was half behind me. There were some hills in the 30's, but nothing terrible. Erika was screaming cheers unexpectedly at mile 37. And once you are in the 40's, its just a short ride to 56. This is when I started singing the internal praises of Chamois Butter (if you don't know why I say this, you probably don't want the details), and looking forward to seeing my hubby back at the transition area. As I headed up the hill I could see Omar, Adam and Erika cheering me on, and in a total of 3hr 22min, I climbed off my bike and started the run.

My coach had told me to consciously hold back for the first 6 miles. I have run 8:50's for 6miles in the past, but there was no way I could hold that, so I pulled back to 9:30's even though 9's were what I was leaning towards. This is when the money for a coach pays off! I felt great for the first 3 miles, started getting a bit tired for the next 3, hung tough for the next 3, and then really wanted to be done. The problem with splitting a 13.1 mile race into 3 mile chunks is the final 4.1! At mile 9, that 4 more just got in my head. I was tired, took a little more walk time at the water breaks, but just wanted to get to the school. The school, you see, is the turnaround point for the must shorter Sprint race that I have done 3 times before. It means you are only 1.5 miles away from the finish.

Omar was waiting at ~3/4 miles left and ran the next 800 yards with me. At first he was asking me questions, and I just said "Talk to me. Tell me about our kiddos this morning..." So I listened as he talked. He had to peel off as I entered the park, and Jon was yelling awesome encouragement from the sidelines. As I rounded the corner, I could hear the neighbors see me and start yelling. I was then running a path that I have envisioned SOOO many times while training: round the playground, up the hill, hairpin turn and to the finish line.

Then I burst into tears again.

I did it. 6:26:07. Mary was on top of me immediately, hugging that incredibly sweaty body of mine and giving me so much praise. It was a truly spectacular feeling. After some post race hanging out, a Smitty's burger and a FANTASTIC shower, we all headed to Mary's to rest our sore bodies, eat pulled pork, slaw and cake, and celebrate. Thank you Mary! You are such a wonderful friend and inspiration to us all.

So much work, so many hours. And I did it. In some ways I almost don't believe I actually did it. I have always felt like a dabbler in this whole sport. But I guess I can officially say I am a triathlete now, straight up.

For more photos, link to:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/sellke/sets/72157627276429594/
http://www.backprint.com/go.asp?106637335

Chisago - The kids edition

2011-07-28T07:24:00.000-07:00

Ah, the Chisago Kid's Triathlon. It always seems like such a good idea...

This year, as last, made me wonder why I continue to invite my kids to this brand of crazy, but at least 25% of my children really enjoy it! Here's how Saturday unfurled itself 24 hours before my own race:

I insisted on Friday that every kid show me they were competent enough on their bikes to be safe to race. This meant show me you can turn, brake and pedal without putting yourself of anyone else in danger. I knew Cal was a lock already, Max was pretty darn solid but I mostly just wanted him to practice, and Spence was the question mark. Maybe, maybe not. He mostly just likes to ride down the hill on his Stryder (pedaless) bike and stop with his feet Fred Flintstone style. He was doing so so well at first with the pedals, but then had a bobble, a melt down and a refusal to try again, screeching "the bike doesn't work!!" His brothers continued for ~25 more minutes, but I couldn't convince him to get back on.

So, after offering to put the training wheels back on for the race and being instantly dismissed, Spence was out. This didn't stop tears that night or the next morning, but when 7:30am rolled around, Max, Calvin and I were out the door. We had heard there might be a storm, but it looked great when we left and the whole neighborhood decided to go for it.

By the time we made it to registration at 8:30, they take my money because the weather had taken such a turn that they had to close up the tents. As we all took shelter under the picnic structure as the sky blackened and the winds started scaring the children. We were then evacuated to the local Community Center while they postponed the race. This was EXACTLY the way we all hoped the day would go!

After an hour or so, they announced the race was being postponed until noon, and we were free to leave and come back. So, all 24 neighborhood kids and parents took our damp selves over to a local restaurant for brunch.

By the time noon rolled around, it was perfect weather. Sun, cool-ish temps and kids ready to go.

Thankfully, they did the young kids first this year, so Calvin was off shortly after noon. He, as he did last year, had a BLAST. He was focused, determined, and came home with the 3rd place trophy in his age group.

I had cheered Cal to the finish line and turned around just in time to see Max running up the hill from the beach, done with the "swim" (otherwise known as a short run in waist-high water) and was heading for the bike. After age 7, parents can't help. He was on his own to find his bike, put on his socks (which he ended up skipping) and helmet, and get out of the transition area properly. I couldn't see what the hangup was, but he was one of the last out. He did the bike, which is a major accomplishment, then BOOKED out of transition on the run. It never occurred to me to discuss pacing with the kid. He literally left his bike in a dead sprint, little arms pumping up and down, face steely. The problem? The run for his age group isn't short. I think it was half a mile. The next time I saw him, he was walking, clutching his side stitch and when I got next to him to encourage him, he felt like he was going to barf. He was also very well aware of the fact that no one was behind him. I walked the last 300 yards with him, and tried to not let me heart break as he walked over the finish line near tears.

But he finished. He did it. He was part of the group shot at the end that eluded him last year. It seems like the main purpose of sports for kids, whether it be team or individual, is a safe place for some pretty tough life lessons. For Spence: If you give up, you can't move forward. For Cal: Work hard and you will be rewarded. For Max: You finish what you start, even if the end result isn't what you were hoping for. Watching his bro and many neighbors get a trophy was tough on my eldest. But in an interesting twist, every family from the 'hood had one (or more) kid walk home with a trophy while another in the family didn't. Sometimes life is like that. And that's ok.

All that's left...

2011-07-21T10:25:00.000-07:00

... is the race.

I just wrapped up my last real exercise before I try to kick the Chisago Half Ironman in the teeth on Sunday. A little dip in the lake tomorrow and then nothing but nervous energy as I pack my things up and try to make sure I have everything I need. Saturday, the kids are doing the little-people triathlon (let's hope it goes better than last year), then Omar scoops up the hopefully joyous children, takes them home, and I stay there to stew in my juices until morning. Thankfully, Nathan and Jon will be there with me, and I am very much looking forward to dinner with these wonderful friends, ruminating over our shared 1st journey to this point. Our spouses will be overjoyed to not be subjected to this full-frontal triathlon talk-fest that is going to ensue (as they have been for the last 5 months).

Due to the fact I have a watch that tracks my every movement, I can tell you what it takes to get to this point. I have biked or run my body 1398.9 miles since 3/1, and this doesn't count swimming (the watch has a little trouble logging those miles). For fun, I just looked on mapquest, and that's 46 mile MORE than it would take to get to my brother's house in Worcester, Massachusetts from my garage. I have spent 109:38 hours accomplishing all of these tasks.

I have tried not to drive Mary crazy with my questions or my intermittently foul attitude about this entire brand of mental illness. Mary, who I both thank and blame for all of this! She, by the way, qualified last weekend to go to Las Vegas and compete in the Half Ironman World Championships. My goals are a little less lofty, but we'll see if I come home with anything.

So, wish me luck! Think good thoughts as I swim 1.2, bike 56 and run 13.1 miles. I swore I wanted to accomplish this once in my life, and basically, I have.

Europa!

2011-07-11T14:27:00.001-07:00

Well, I have just crashed my browser about 7 times trying to upload pictures of our trip, so you will just have to take my word for it that it was beautiful and FANTASTIC!

Omar, myself, Christopher and Pam all headed to Geneva on June 20 for a drive to Chamonix, France and our start of the Tour de Mont Blanc. We trekked for 12 days and traveled completely around Mont Blanc, hiking from France into Italy, on to Switzerland and back to France. We would basically hike all morning to get to a mountain pass, sit at the top around 1:30 and eat lunch, then descend a few hours down to the next valley were we would find our luggage and a bed.

The views were simply spectacular and our guide and group of 10 was just as good as you could possibly hope for. All the other people were nice, some VERY funny, and our guide has been doing this for 20 years. I learned more about wildflowers, cows, and cheese than I ever thought I would. We all sang the graduation song as we returned to the spot we had started at 12 days before.

I will try to get some photos up and then try to jump start the basic daily nonsense of the Surly Crew. My half Ironman is at T minus 13 days. I am looking forward to regaining some semblance of my old life when I am no longer exercising for 3-5 hours out of each day!

Jimminy Crickets!

2011-06-16T14:30:00.000-07:00

How busy can one little life get??? I gotta say, when my day is so full that I think of the post that I will write only to find that the day is too full to write it, THAT's when you know you are just too damn busy.

In the last few weeks we have had Mother's day, Omar and his mom's birthday, the twins birthday, our anniversary, endless miles on my bike, in my suit and in my running shoes, Omar's endless miles training for the Twin Cities Marathon, two jobs to tend to, and, oh yes, we also have 4 kids.

My Half Ironman is coming up on July 24th, and I am REALLLY looking forward to August. August is going to be so completely fantastic! No more race training, the work schedule will be calmer, my brother and his family will be here for 2 weeks, I will get up to the cabin, my wonderful friends the McClusky's and Gary might be here for a weekend. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

But let us not forget the 10th Anniversary trip that is just a mere 3 days away!!! Omar and I leave for 2 weeks to trek through the Alps sans children on Sunday, mad largely possible by the Grandma and Grandpa babysitting duo. My brother and his wife meet up with us in Geneva, and I might just explode with happiness/relief when my butt hits the airplane seat. Omar and I had to pay a babysitter just to carve out the time to hit REI for our gear shopping. At the risk of having the credit card company refuse the charges, we had a blast. Kids in a candy store, I tell ya.

So, that's the latest. Not really funny, or particularly interesting. But it is our life at this snapshot in time. And that's why we write it down, right?

And the verdict is...

2011-05-11T19:07:00.000-07:00

NLD.

Those three letters are the official opinion of the neuropsychologist that we enlisted to help us figure out what is so very different about how little Spence's mind seems to work.

Nonverbal Learning Disorder.

In the 4 hours since hearing this professional opinion, here is what I understand. He can learn something when he hears it, but is very hampered if it is seen or by visual clues. This includes picking up on tone of voice, facial expression, body language, pictures. It's a processing problem that also hampers seeing "the big picture" of a situation or the organization/structure of your situation. It certainly fits. Rules of the Game, as outlined by his brothers in play, require a degree of structure he has trouble following... and when they get frustrated, he doesn't pick up on any of the non-verbal clues until they are yelling at him and kicking him out of the game. Tears follow, and complete confusion as to why he is, again, the victim of their mean behavior.

The good news? She said he tested out to have one of the highest memory scores she is ever seen, and he is very smart. His verbal learning is excellent.

Not sure whether I am happy or sad about all of this. It's something I know nothing about. No one wants their child to have "a disorder," but if it means I can now help him, then hallelujah!

Laundry math

2011-05-10T19:53:00.000-07:00

So, as I stared at the mountain of laundry that was awaiting me today, I started wondering "How much laundry is there, really?"

Let's do the daily and weekly totals:

Socks: 12 (add 4 more given Omar and I are both working out daily) *7 = 112
Pants: 6 (plus 2 running shorts) *7 = 56
Shirts: 6 (plus 2) *7 = 56
Underwear: 6 *7 = 42
PJ bottoms: 4.2 (Omar and I don't need new PJ's daily...) *7 = 29.4
Assorted sweatshirts/jackets = 4 a week
Towels = 6 a week

Estimated number of items I wash, dry, fold and put away each week (barring any soccer games, spills, accidents or kids who just wanna put on a new outfit for no particularly good reason)?

305.4

Motivation

2011-04-28T10:32:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gentlemen, Max can now ride a bike.

Best non-jews ever

2011-04-23T13:51:00.000-07:00

Ah, Passover. That time when I observe the holiday in all of it's scheduling glory without actually observing the holiday. As I have said many times, every time they change an Ansari boy's diaper at the JCC they can tell we aren't in the tribe.

So, Leo has been home much of the week with me. I had to try to find kosher everything at the Super Target for the days he did go to school. But here is a little twist I didn't expect.

The big brothers, the ones now in secular school, were completely STOKED to have matzah in the house. The box, that used to be only half empty by the time I could finally send a delicious piece of leavened anything back to daycare, is now an item of great desire. They have emptied the one, and are now bummed that there is none to snack on.

With great sadness, they are now chewing on Cheez-its and Nutrigrain bars. Man, it is tough to be a kid around here.

Mr. Attention

2011-04-22T14:49:00.001-07:00

We have been known to say that Spencer really would do better if he was an only child. He is the one most likely to crave love/hugs/attention/time/games/reading, etc. He is a very hands-on little dude. But, of all bitter ironies, not only is he one of 4 children, he is a twin. It's like the anti-matter to being an only child.

If the parents aren't available for this attention, the brothers are next in line. If they are happily doing something that holds very little interest for Spence, he will pester them just so he will be "included."

We have been trying to stress, for some time now, that there is a big difference between POSITIVE attention and NEGATIVE attention. Yes, having your brothers yell at you does count as getting their attention. But the long term consequences of this type of "inclusion" is not something we are really looking to explore.

But, he has found a great new buddy! His 2-year-old brother! looks up to his big brother, wants to play with Spence, wants to chase him around. But you know what gives you a 2-year-old's undivided attention? Take his stuff!

Take the toy he wants, and run the other way! You will have an unremitting (and unwitting) "playmate" for hours! He might even scream and yell, which is an added bonus.

Apparently, we need to keep working on this...

The biker

2011-04-18T11:10:00.000-07:00

I am so very proud of Calvin. But I can't really show it.

Yesterday, after spending last year on training wheels and the last two weeks putzing around on a strider bike (a short two-wheeler without any peddles), Calvin declared he was ready for a real two wheeler. And wouldn't you know the child took about 10 minutes on a real 2 wheeler before he was completely whipping around the driveway. Done deal.

So, with that, one of my 5 1/2 year olds can now ride a bike. I barely touched him at all. No running behind the bike, hand on the seat, back hunched over to one side. One of our biker neighbors happened to be at our house when this inspiration hit, and gave Cal a few pointers to get him completely up and running, but that was it.

But here's the rub. Max, his 8 1/2 yr old brother, still hasn't conquered this beast. He still can't balance his bike. He is tall, lanky and much more likely to injure himself if he goes down - which he has done several times, adding to the trepidation. He has shed many a tear over this frustration, and has walked away from his downed bike countless times.

So, while I want to jump up and down for what Cal has accomplished, how do I give him the kudos without making big brother feel like garbage? That, my friends, is pesky.

Or maybe it is the motivation that will finally get this monkey off his back....

The solution

2011-04-17T11:29:00.000-07:00

The solution to yesterday's troubles?

Well clearly, one just needs MORE children!

No, I'm not pregnant.

We survived last night by going to a neighbor's house and pooling our collective 7 children. (Having the adults watch Caddy Shack over thai food and beers didn't hurt either...). Then today, Cal is riding around on the driveway with his friend Maya, and Spence and Max are happily playing hide and seek with Dag, a friend from down the street. Everyone is happy! No one is whining! No one is hanging on my body!

Revolutionary.

Uncle!!

2011-04-16T14:18:00.000-07:00

I am sitting alone in a coffee house because my children love me too much.

They hug me, touch me, climb on me, cling to my legs, want to read with me, want to follow me into the bathroom, swarm around me while I am in front of a dangerously hot stove making breakfast, interrupt me, ask me to play UNO, CandyLand, Sorry. They physically grapple for better position on or near me, teetering cup of hot coffee be damned.

I can't take all the love!

And Omar stands by, helpless to stem the mama onslaught. Try as he might, it comes to a point that I simply have to leave. I have to remove myself so they can find a harmonic balance of playing with each other, all whining and crying halted. The house, as I sit here in my temporary escapism, is, without a doubt, calmer and more peaceful than it has been all day.

It just seems so messed up sometimes...

LIttle yellow spots

2011-02-12T06:55:00.000-08:00

This is how I know that the boys have, yet again, tried their hand and standing while going to the bathroom.

And as long as I continue to see these spots on the toilet seat (blech!), I will continue to be the evil toilet dictator and insist that all people under the age of 22 sit down to pee.

What I don't understand is this. What is the complete and utter fascination with standing to pee? Is it really that great of an experience? Is this life pleasure one that 50% of the population are robbed of every single day? Do I just not get it? I mean, granted, I have never been given the option to have my own personal water gun while urinating, but seriously. I have played with water guns. They aren't that exciting.

Even Leo, who just started the process of even knowing what the toilet is for, is trying to get in the game. Nevermind that his necessary parts don't even approach the proper altitude. As with many things in Leo's world, being 2 is a simple inconvenience that isn't about to slow him down.

So when my boys grow up to be labeled nancy-boys for sitting down to pee, I guess they can take it up with their therapists. Or, just stop peeing on the seat. That would work too.

They just can't get enough of us...

2011-01-28T16:41:00.000-08:00

Usually I blog around 5:30 when all the cases are done and we have wrapped things up for the night. It's currently 7:45pm, and we still aren't done. They don't need me in the OR because the case we currently have is so sick she needs two surgeons... But, let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.

We started the day with our 6:30am walk again today, but this time we went to the river instead of the mountain. The walk was a fabulous dichotomy of beautiful and ugly. The streets are filled with delightful people staring at us and waving. The walk had to take a slight detour when we had to negotiate around a man sitting in the path butchering a cow with a machete. Lots of people were standing around, talking, waiting for their piece. I have pictures for those who are brave enough to look.

The path to the river was through banana trees and planted fields with gorgeous mountain scenery all around. The path itself was bordered the entire length in a 3 foot pile of trash. Some burning, some not. Goats and pigs grazing on it. Women at the riverside were doing laundry and cleaning themselves... we did not touch the water, of course, given that this could also be called 'cholera central.'

We got back, had some breakfast, and started with what was supposed to be a quick, 'wrap it up' kind of day. One hysterectomy, one hydrocele (that I actually performed), two hernias, a breast fibroadenoma, and a few lumps and bumps seen in clinic. We heard just before lunch that there was an appendicitis in clinic, so he would be an add-on.

After lunch, the drama began. The appy was a 70 year-old man. He signed his consent in the OR and then had his spinal anesthesia. This is when we learned the people who came with him weren't his family (as previously believed), and they were insisting we don't operate. You see, here there is no food service. This is no significant nursing. So you have to have someone who stays with you and brings you food and water, someone who will take you home. And the people screaming outside the OR said they wouldn't and that we were just going to kill him on our table.

Well, then it turns out they are his neighbors. They don't want to get in trouble if something bad were to happen, so that is why they were refusing care. Since they weren't family,AND none could be found, AND the man was going to die without surgery, we went forward (his own consent not being worth much).

This is when Leslie comes into the OR and announces that over in clinic, a woman who had had an abortion yesterday came into clinic bleeding. They attempted a D&C (uterus clean out) in clinic, but instead ended up with small intestine coming out of her vagina. And we only have one OR that can do these serious cases.

So, we dive into the appendicitis case at 2:30pm hoping it goes quickly, knowing the woman could go south very quickly. Steve and I got into his belly, and it initially looked like a ruptured appy that has been there for a while. Lots of scarring, lots of nasty looking tissue... but then we found ourselves inside the cecum, i.e. into open bowel. After looking around some more, it turns out he has metastatic colon cancer that had ruptured. We end up having to widen his incision and do a right colon removal (i.e not quick at all). By the time we have his colon out, his bowel put back together, remove another met that is about to perforate, and sew him back up, it's 6pm.

Needless to say, laying in a hospital in Haiti with intestines hanging out of your vagina for 4 hours isn't really good for a person. Steve and Leslie got into her belly to find a hole in the top of the uterus from the botched abortion/D&C, and 5 feet of dead small intestine (half in, half out). They have just about wrapped up the bowel repair as I type this. Then they will begin her hysterectomy. She has 5 kids. Her husband is out of the country right now.

So, we finish with a bang. And tomorrow we hand off these super sick patients to the incoming team from North Memorial with a piece of paper handed off at the airport in Cap Haitian. We still have the seizure lady, who still doesn't recognize family members but does recognize our interpreter. There is the guy who has his suprapubic catheter and will just wait for the urologist to come fix his prostate. And lord only know what could happen in the next twelve hours before we leave.

But, what I do know is that this is my last post from down here. I will wrap this up, check the OR, and start packing. Thanks to all of you for your well wishes and good thoughts. Steve summed this whole week up with 4 statements: 1) I love it, 2) I hate it, 3) I want to come back, 4) I never want to come back.

Au revoir.

I spoke too soon again....

2011-01-27T14:12:00.000-08:00

Ah, just when you think it is safe to blog, something goes all crazy on you.

Last night, after blogging and heading to dinner, we were sitting around chatting when a person started yelling into the dining building. Translation? "One of the hysterectomy patients is seizing." Well, that's not good. So the table emptied as we all ran back to the hospital.

By the time we get there, the seizing has stopped, but she is laying there largely unconscious. We put one of our portable oxygenation monitors on her - 65%. You really want to see above 94%. So, you say, put her on O2. Well, we don't really have any, per se. The only O2 tank is in the operating room. And the bed she is on doesn't fit through the door. We do have an oxygen concentrator, but that only got her up to mid 80's. Usually after a seizure, you are out of it for a bit, but then you come back around. That was not happening.

So, we got a cart, carried her by her sheet out the door (of a room that has 4 people and all their families in it), and take her back to the OR for O2. Thankfully, that got her up to 100%. Meanwhile you have 4 MDs and 2 anesthetists trying to figure out why she seized. Does she have an unknown seizure disorder? No. Does she drink and lot and is withdrawing? No. Could she have low sodium, low calcium, or low magnesium? Your guess is as good as mine, seeing as how we don't have any way to test for that. So we replaced all of them. She had had surgery under spinal marcaine, a bit of versed and she got the wound injected with Marcaine as well. None of these were at doses that should cause anything close to seizures. She then seized 2 more times without coming out of it in between, officially putting her in status epilepticus. Thankfully we had IV Versed, then found some valium to break the seizure. But she still was completely out of it.

In the US, we would intubate her. Here? There are no ventilators, so if you get tubed, someone sits there all night and bags her. That someone would be me. Thankfully she kept breathing on her own. We would also give IV seizure meds. None here. So we placed a tube in her stomach, confirmed it's placement only by listening, and poured phenobarbitol liquid down it. When she still wasn't coming around, we wondered if she had had a head bleed (and just our bad luck to be her surgeons that day). But, her lumbar puncture showed no blood, and when she did move, she moved equally on both sides... another theory blown.

By 9pm, we started setting up for shifts to watch her throughout the night. Since the surgeons and the anesthetists should be awake (preferably), Yvonne and I said we would do it. I went to bed until 1am, and was going to take the 1am-6am shift. At 12:30am, Yvonne came to our room and told me she had come around, had good oxygenation on room air, was recognizing family and was back in her room. Today, she has been groggy all day, but able to answer questions.

So good doctor, you say, why did she seize? I have no flippin' idea. Will she do it again tonight. Well, tune in tomorrow to find out.

Today was hyterectomies, hernias, hydroceles and lipomas. The funniest story was the guy I was examining in clinic for scrotal swelling. I was trying to determine if this swelling would go back into the abdomen (hernia) or stay in the scrotum (hydrocele). I started to gently squeeze the area to see. He moved my hands, and I was afraid I had hurt him. But instead, he knew exactly what I was doing and showed me his party trick. He pushed the whole thing between his legs, squeezed them together with great force, and with a strange sucking sound, the swelling disappeared, and he opened his legs with a great smile to show a normal scrotum. As Leslie says, this is Haiti.

Last day tomorrow. Mostly little surgeries because we don't want to leave major recovery in our wake. There are many abandoned children here, 9 of which have major medical problems (CP, MR, developmental delay), and 4 of which are delightful and healthy. Givenson turns 8 tonight, so we are wrapping up some clothes, toys and shoes for his birthday. Luvins (4), Reece (5?) and Shebani (3) take turns sitting on our laps and getting hugs. They are a joy to have around as I miss my own little ones. Soon I will be giving them hugs too.

Long day in the OR

2011-01-26T14:57:00.000-08:00

Well, the good new today is that no one died. I will say that in jest at home, but here? It is actually a good way to measure the day.

We started the day off with a 6am sunrise hike up the nearest "mountain." I have definitely learned I need to do more climbing before my anniversary trip to the Alps this summer! After walking through a garbage heap, a neighborhood, then straight up (not a switch back to be found), we got to watch the sun rise while listening to many woman chant their songs to god. It was a really beautiful way to start the day.

Once we got to the hospital, Yvonne and I checked on all the post-op patients while the surgeons started taking in the new patients. One man with a hernia repair from yesterday was having terrible urinary retention. Using the ultrasound we brought with us, we were able to see that his bladder was up to his belly button. Our 3 tries at a urinary catheter were unsuccessful due to a whopping prostate. He ended up in the OR for a catheter that passes through the abdominal wall (with none of the usual tools we usually need), but that clotted off and was back for a re-do by lunchtime. Yvonne and Steve were finally able to find a stray guide-wire, sterilize it, pass that into the bladder through a needle, dilate the hole and then pass a catheter that finally had good flow. We lost a lot of time on other cases, but finally, this man can rest. (and come back next week to have his prostate worked on...)

We had 3 hysterectomies, and a few hernias. The scheduled c-section was here earlier than really needed, so she was sent home for another week. I saw a pair of 3 month-old twins that mom was concerned about them having tight foreskins. No biggy. I talked her through the treatment at home. The incredible thing about these twins were that they born at home, the first at midnight, the next at 10pm. 22 hours in between. Good. God.

I got to be a plastic surgeon as well, removing a fatty tumor from a young woman's face. That was rewarding. The case of the day that took the cake was the hydrocele. It was an older man, with one year history of swelling in the right scrotum. The fluid bag we drained measured 1700cc. That is just a swig shy of a two liter bottle of coke. Can you imagine carrying that around in half of your scrotum every day? He will be a very happy camper once he can feel the lower half of his body again.

In a perfect picture of how things get done in Haiti, we couldn't start our last case of the day because the scrub nurse had decided to get in line to be seen by the dentist who is with us (the OB, Leslie's, husband). We had to send someone to go get her back. Another staff member was yelling at the head of the hospital because she felt she should be paid double because another person didn't come to work. As Leslie says as she shrugs her shoulders "This is Haiti."

I am certainly feeling the tug of home. The only thing I'm not starting to miss is the weather! I want to hug those adorable little boys of mine and the big one too. But, that will have to wait. We already have a full schedule for tomorrow including some cases that were bumped from today.

Thanks for all the good thoughts and notes! I have read every one of them. Don't be shy!

becca

Day 4

2011-01-25T14:10:00.000-08:00

Well, here I am again. Bonsoir from Haiti. We are still well and happy and getting a bit more tired and bit more sore in the legs and backs. Cement floor tend to wear on you after a number of hours/days. Today had many aspects that already felt like business as usual. 3 hysterectomies, 3 hernias, 2 hydrocele repairs. Same view in the morning - a line of people waiting to see if they will get in to see the "blancs."

The baby from yesterday died during the night. He was so sick, and I knew dying was very possible, but that doesn't mean you don't hope for the best. I hoped we had swooped in and righted his ship, but to no avail. His mother is already dead from cholera, dad lives in the Dominican Republic. The lady here with him was dad's aunt. She leaves with his body, on her own to deal with the burial.

One thing that is throwing me off quite a bit is the advanced state people have progressed to before they get here. Of course I knew that was going to be the case, but by definition that means these are cases unlike anything I have ever seen in the states. The man with one testicle three times it's normal size and firm? Cancer? Don't know. Come back and see the urologist next week (and walk for a few hours again?). The man with the mass protruding from his cheek that was reaching the size of a grapefruit? Cancer? Benign? How do I know? No one in the states would let a mass GET this big. Go to Cap Haitian because you will need a facial surgeon. The woman with the mass in her right breast the size of a kiwi? We'll find out tomorrow when we do her likely mastectomy.

in the morning, one of the Haitian residents came running to our clinic asking if there was anything we had to offer the old woman with the "grade 3 tumor in her head." They had already given her mannitol (emergent treatment for severe brain swelling). I have NOTHING to offer, nor did anyone with us. Let's say I did jump in and try to be superman... the end result is no better. We later went to clinic to see if there was anything to help with, and there was the body, head wrapped with a blood soaked bandage, waiting for family to come pick it up.

Yvonne had a clinic case yesterday of a 5-day-old home born baby who arrived with a meningocele (a fluid sac at the base of the back filled with spinal fluid and sometimes cord) leaking spinal fluid onto the exam table. Meningitis in inevitable. We told them to hold him, love him and go home. They were going to try to make it to the Dominican, but there is very little hope.

On the flip side, I got to feel right at home with the retained nail in the leg for the past year. Numb it, make your incision, pull it out and bandage it up. THAT I know how to deal with. And the patient and the daughter were so thankful you would think I had performed a miracle! They sang and raised their hands to the heavens. At least for that moment, for those women, I had made a real difference.

My overall reaction to all of this is very dichotomous. At times, I feel like we are doing so much. At other times? Soooooo little. I can't help more than half of the people I am telling you about. And when you see how many people are here and how sick some of them are, you just feel like you are addressing one grain of sand on a whole beach. It is disheartening at times. But, we do what we can, right? It' s better than if no one was here. But it is also very humbling. I'm no hero. I'm not feeling like I'm changing the world. But, I guess changing the world isn't the goal.

We all continue to be well. Kisses to all.

I spoke too soon...

2011-01-24T13:58:00.000-08:00

This post ain't short. Grab a beverage and stay a while...

Well, it initially seemed like my post yesterday was a pretty good summary. The only real action that wasn't captured was the scraping of a courtyard's walls to prepare for a new coat of paint and then dinner. We were all nestling down for a book or cribbage last night. But then we got the early introduction to the OR.

The Canadian MD, Brian, came rushing into our building around 8pm to announce we had just received 3 gunshot wound patients. And no, he wasn't just pulling our chains. We all changed clothes and ran to the hospital. Security was trying to keep 20-30 family and friends out of the "triage" area (read: room with 4 tables in it). None of them hostile, all just concerned. One man was shot in the belly, the other through the arm and a third on the jawline. The two surgeons and Yvonne (the other ER MD) tended to the belly guy, and I was covering the others. The arm was a through and through, minimal bleeding. He got a bandage (strip of old sheeting) and 10 ibuprofen. Thanks for stopping by.

The man with the shot to the jaw was standing in the middle of the room, looking the complete picture of health. He had what looked like a grazing wound to the left jaw line. But he kept telling me his back hurt. He guided my hand to just inside his left scapula. And that is where I could feel the bullet under the skin. This was later confirmed by his otherwise normal chest xray. The bullet had passed into the skin of the jaw line, through the neck, through the trapezius muscle and down the soft tissues of the back. No broken bones, no popped lung, no significant swelling in the neck (ie he missed his carotid and jugular). I stitched him up and he also left with 10 ibuprofen. Completely insane.

While I was doing this, they were finding the 3rd man to have a hole in his stomach and uncontrolled pooling of blood in the abdomen. They patched and looked for the bleeder. Family gave blood (there is no blood bank). But just as the first unit was ready, they found the source of all the trouble. He had a large hole in the inferior vena cava (for those of you not medically inclined, that would be the main vein that returns all blood from the bottom of the body back to the heart). It was a fatal injury. They could finally see the hole because the man was largely out of blood to bleed.

So, we all piled into bed last night at 11pm feeling like we had already worked a full day.

After sleeping MUCH better than the first night, we rose to a hospital lined up with patients for our team. They had all been told to return today to be seen by the surgeons. We went into clinic, which could best be described as a basement utility room with an examination table from 1963. For expediency, I am going to list the people I saw today. Realize, this is not for the faint of heart:

1) Older woman sent for removal of her uterus due to fibroids. Unfortunately, what she actually has is metastatic uterine cancer. Surgery would hasten her death. She was sent home with 10 ibuprofen (are you seeing a theme?).

2) Younger woman, sent for removal of her fibroids. She was examined in the same gown and on the same sheet as #1, as were all the following patients. She was worried about not having periods again because all the blood would build up inside her. She was reassured, and she was the first case of the day. (She is resting comfortably now. I was 1st assist on the case. In case you are wondering what we use to scrub before becoming "sterile" for surgery? Palmolive dish soap).

3) An older man with an enlarged prostate with urinary catheter already in place. He likely has prostate cancer. He was started in antibiotics and told to come back next week when the urologist will be here.

4) Same story as #2

5) An older man with what appeared to be an incarcerated right groin hernia. In the OR Dr. Mestitz actually found a hydrocele and other fun I don't entirely understand. But he's doing ok.

6) An 8 year old boy with a hernia. We told mom to wait until he was older, and she was fine with that.

7) A man with pain with swallowing for 5 years. We didn't have anything surgical to offer.

8) A husband and wife with matching hernias. They are both recovering as I type this.

9) A couple more prostate patients. Same story as #3.

Before lunch, Brian asked Yvonne and I to come look at a kid on the cholera ward. He has been in the hospital for 5 days. The cholera has passed, but he is looking sicker today. We get there and he looks profoundly dehydrated with breathing very poorly. We learn that yesterday he had seemed "congested" and the nurse (and some MD? There are resident haitian doctors here) had given this 10 pound 9- month-old 20mg of IV lasix and then taken out his IV. That is an extremely potent diuretic in an adult. It also can cause very low potassium levels. We started a new IV in the boy's neck and started fluids again. Before our eyes he looked better. I have no way to check his potassium... We give the cholera oral rehydration liquid and hope.

After lunch, I went to the general walk-in clinic to help out. Again, here's a list:

1)****Warning**** This is the worst. First guy I see? He is ~24 years old, scorching fever and says he has pain in his stomach and genitals for 2 WEEKS. He undresses and has a gangrenous penis with fully infected scrotum. He very likely is going to die. I don't have a surgeon who can do what he needs. He gets 2 injections of antibiotics (drawn up and injected by yours truly with one needle) and a shot of pain medicine (same needle), and is carried away by his family to get in a car and head to Cap Haitian where the might be able to save him.

2) high blood pressure check
3) wound check for machete to the toe
4) recheck of a broken finger with k-wires in place (there was an orthopedic doctor here 3 weeks ago).
5) A swollen leg from a bandage tied to tight this morning after his motorcycle accident.
6) An old man with chronic wounds on his ankle. Bandage and hope. Chances they will get more infected and kill him? Pretty good.
7) others I can't remember.

Needless to say, I am tired and a little blown away. I feel we can offer so much, but at the same time so little. I need to give up the computer, but I will try to keep it shorter tomorrow. We are all doing well, and looking forward to dinner! Our thoughts are will all you back home!

becca

Day 2

2011-01-23T11:02:00.000-08:00

Well, it's only 2pm, but I don't know when I'll be on the computer again.

Sleep last night was, well, noisy. I had pictured the hospital being in the middle of nowhere, but we are smack in Limbe, which is a bustling town. Our house (cement floor, stucco walls, screens but no windows, tin roof) is close enough to the one road paved road that there were sounds of horns (usually honked for little reason I can find) throughout the night. I have also learned that roosters do not wait until dawn to crow. It's more like 4am, and they continue until about 7am.

We all had breakfast in the dining building. A few Haitian ladies are employed by the organization to feed all the hospital staff and volunteers. I may actually gain weight in Haiti, which seems twisted. After breakfast we headed back into Limbe to walk around. The people are very nice. First, it's staring and pointing. Then some giggling. If we say "bonjour" and wave, they return it and smile.

Church was the event of the morning for Limbe. In our loop around "town" there were 4 churches (One adventist, one Catholic, one Baptist, one unknown). The witch doctor's office is right next to the hospital, so we have that covered as well. You would not believe the absolute finery that is worn to church. Think of the fanciest dresses you see for little girls at Target. Frilly, shiny shoes, boys in suit pants and ties, men in full suits. The women! Beautiful clothes, hats, HEELS (on the dirt, rock and mud puddle roads). Many many people dressed in brilliantly white clothes, perfectly pressed.

Contrast that to the underlying scene. There is no plumbing. No sewage system. People urinate in the trees, or by the side of the road. There is no electricity, but you can find cell phone stations at the market to buy minutes as you can afford them. Cell phones are not rare. Grains are seen laying out on sheets on the paths to dry out... but you can have the little problem of the dog urinating in the middle of it like we saw this morning. Trenches can be found with rancid water and the trash is pretty much everywhere. There is no garbage system. Refuse goes pretty much wherever.

We are highly pampered in the compound with running cold water, toilets and trashcans (can't really tell you where any of it goes...). I have a bed, a pillow, and a ceiling fan! I am in shorts and sweating while outside, so that seems luxurious by any Minnesota standard!

Tomorrow we will start the surgical week. I am here with an OB/Gyn, a general surgeon, 2 nurse anesthetists and another ER doctor. The schedule is full all week for surgical cases. We will check them out in the morning, then the surgeons will start and I will take care of them as they recover as well as get the next patients ready to go. At least that's what I think I'll be doing. Tomorrow's message will tell you the reality.

To my family - thanks for the messages left. I will see if I can get into my email as well. I hope I haven't left you in the lurch too much! Thanks for letting me be away to do this. I miss you all very much.

Home sweet Haiti

2011-01-22T12:50:00.000-08:00

We are safe and sound on the ground in Limbe! The plane trip from Miami to Cap Haitian was smooth as can be. They hadn't loaded any luggage on the plane (that's right, ANY), so we waited at the airport for the next plane 45 minutes later. Thankfully everything was on it (it was the only other flight for the day), and we all piled into the van.

The road trip was very bumpy and quite a quick snapshot of the poverty that is around us. The earthquake didn't really affect this area - we are pretty far north and the epicenter was at Port au Prince on the southern half. But, the amount of crumbled buildings just from decay is still profound. We got to the hospital compound an hour later, unpacked, had some lunch (very yummy), took a tour of the hospital and then went for a walk through the market.

It was an extremely crowded circle of booths and vending stations selling, beans, tomatoes, underwear, soda, shrimp, dried fish, chicken feet, greens, soap, pharmacy mystery pills, water, oil, shirts, skirts and other necessities. We heard a lot of "blanc" as we walked through. Though we certainly stick out like a sore thumb, the market is very near the hospital compound, so the locals seem to know who we are and why we are here.

We will start work on Monday, though the cholera unit is running 24/7. The numbers are down right now (only 7 patients) and there is a full time MD from Canada covering that. For now, we are acclimating.

Love to you all! I am very well. For me, the only real worry was getting here. So, that is done! I will try to keep things up to date!

becca

Leaving on a prop plane...

2011-01-21T18:16:00.000-08:00

T minus 7 hours. Sitting in the Miami hotel trying to convince myself I'm sleepy even though it's only 8pm at home. We leave for the airport at 4:30am (ie 3:30 at home).

Just had dinner with the crew and am so excited to get started. It is so clear that anything we can do to help is so much more than they have. We are the first surgical crew to be at the hospital in 6 months! There will be a line of patients waiting for us Monday morning. We will do 8-10 cases a day. My roll will be triage and post-anesthesia care, though the MD who is leading us said the best approach is No Expectations. We will do whatever needs to be done. She said to expect at least one death, and the orphanage is so heartbreaking (all disabled kids, CP, incontinence, MR) that we may not be able to stomach it.

Tomorrow will be getting settled and taking it all in. I'll post when I can. It may be more for me than anyone else...

And on a serious note...

2011-01-20T20:54:00.000-08:00

This blog is about to take a serious turn to a different theme. The antics of the crazy A boys will be on temporary hiatus as this becomes the journal for my medical mission trip to Haiti. I leave tomorrow for Cap Haitian, then a quick car ride over to Limbe.

If you want to check out where I will be, link to HBSLimbe.org.

Feel free to leave me comments. The internet may be my only form of communication to the states. For good or bad, I am sure I will have lots to write about!

Boy update

2011-01-13T09:43:00.000-08:00

It's time for one of those snapshots in time where I can look back and see what my boys were all about back in the beginning of 2011.

Max (8yr old) - You continue to be a very heart-felt and empathetic person. You LOVE hugs from your littlest brother and get a little hurt if he doesn't want your affection in a moment of 2yr old defiance. You are still having a bear of a time with your spelling homework and I try to fight the natural pattern I fall into of getting crabby at you when you appear to give up on it. You are the team leader of the shenanigans that go on around here, and it is difficult when you brothers want to take their own turn and making up the rules of a game. But, with some encouragement, you are OK with it. When it comes right down to it, you are a very adaptable little man. I love you so much.

Spencer (5 and a half) - You are my incredibly loving and emotional little imp. The daily tribulations that used to turn you into a puddle of frustration (like putting on your socks if they were for some reason being difficult) aren't nearly as bothersome to you as they used to be. If I say no to something, you have grown up to the point that you can say "Ok mom" and TRULY be ok. Your devilish little smile can crack my heart open wide. Color by number is a current passion, though anything can wait if Phineus and Ferb is on TV. Your favorite snack is a pickle, or a bowl of cherry tomatoes. Apple slices will do in a pinch. Your favorite place in the world is still hanging from my body. I love you so much.

Calvin - (5 and a half) Whatever you do in this life, it will be with great determination and focus. You can be such a little goofball, but if you have something in mind, you will continue towards your goal come hell or high water. Unfortunately, the flip side of this is a strong leaning towards stubbornness, which I have to say you came by honestly from me. You DO NOT like being rushed or being told what to do... which is a bit of a tough road as a 5yr old. You love to read with us and are very interested in starting to read yourself. You love watching Max doing his homework, wishing you had some too. I love you so much.

Leo (2yrs old) - Oh, my little baby man. You think you are hilarious. You also think you are at least 5 years old if not older. Whatever your brothers are doing, you are right along side, not at all aware that you are limited by age and size. You love to dance, try to make us laugh, and snuggle up with us. You have really turned on the "mommy mommy mommy" lately. That includes who you want to change your diaper, so Dad doesn't get a complete bum deal. You have to have your stinky blanket shoved in your mouth to sleep, and you are showing similar focus to Calvin, especially if it involves your shoelaces. I love you so much.

Well, that was a whole lot of fun

2011-01-01T19:47:00.000-08:00

The madness that is the Ansari love of skiing officially has two new initiates. After a fun (and work packed) X-mas season, we packed up the bags, tossed the baby boy off to my parents, and headed to Truckee, CA to our dear friends' parents home. Matt, Megan and their two awesome kids Casey and Claire hosted a fantastic week of powder filled madness, the first of many for Cal and Spence.

All 5 kids took 3 days of lessons (except for the one pukey day for Claire... boo) while the adults gave themselves daily reminders that we just aren't 20 anymore. It snowed an amazing 20 inches during the second night, and we headed out like kids to a candy store. After our first run, the legs were screamin', the bodies were covered in the snow from multiple major diggers, and the sweat was pouring under our pile. It got easier as the day went on, and we finished the day feeling great. Northstar is a really nice mountain.

The nights were filled with hot tubbin, Highlights-and-Lowlights, giggles and games. When it came time to ski with the kids, they amazed us with their new skills. It's fascinating how the personality of the kid comes through. Cal skis exactly how they taught him, with meticulous attention to his snowplow form and beautiful little S turns. He is in control at all times, proud of his precision. Spence is like a little maniac, skiing with his skis in parallel at all times, slowing down with one turn that either finishes with a full 360 spin or a wipeout. Either way, he smiles and starts bombing it again.

Cal, Claire, Spence, Max and Casey (boys sporting post-hot tub mohawks)

Final Hot Cocoa

We did finish with a flourish when we awoke to a snow storm and news that I-80 to the airport was requiring chains on all vehicles that didn't have 4-wheel drive (i.e. our rental car). Omar and Matt were casing gas stations at 6:30am, found a pair, came home, found out they were the wrong size, returned with all of us in tow, bought the second pair (and no, they don't take returns on the ones they sold you 15 minutes ago) and put them on. All of this before 7:15am. Yippee! That's the way to wrap things up! We made our flight home, and now all are in bed.

Thanks Matt and Megan (and family!). We had a total blast. Next year, 4-wheel drive!

That is correct

2010-12-10T14:06:00.000-08:00

While Omar was in DC, I told the kids about the capital and all that went on there. We discussed the Senate and the House and how Barack Obama didn't get to make all the rules himself... all that good civics stuff.

So Omar comes home and gives the kids little statues of DC buildings. The White House, the Capital Building and the Washington Monument.

I try to show off what I have taught the kids. So I ask Max if he remembers who meets in the Capital building. He scruntches up his face and replies "Uhm... the... Senate and the.... House!"

Well done son. Next question. "Do you remember what they call people in the Senate, Max?"

More scruntching... Then totally spontaneously says "Uhhhhm... Hold on.... Comedians?"

That is correct.

School Nurse

2010-12-06T14:03:00.000-08:00

Being a school nurse can't be an easy job. You are not, after all, a doctor. You can't officially diagnose anyone with anything, but still have to call parents when you think someone might have something.

I got one of those calls today. It starts with "I have seen both Calvin and Spencer today..." Is it wrong of me to think "Ok, so who is the copy cat that saw a fun little distraction that got him out of class?"

She states Calvin is with her, and he has a red rash on the inside of his right elbow. Now, I know about this rash, and it's his eczema. We have been putting lotion and intermittent cortisone on it. He is such a dry skin kiddo. It runs rampant in my boys. So, I am still waiting to hear why this is a call-the-mom nursing encounter.

"Well, when Spencer was here earlier, he had a red spot on his arm as well. I am worried it might be ringworm." In my classic, least-caring-wife-and-mother MD manner, I tell her I will be happy to take a look at both of them when they come home tonight. This, of course, is not the answer they were looking for. "Well, they can't go back to class until treatment is started if it's ringworm." (And, by the way, who named this little infection? It's just fungus, like athletes foot, but on the body. Why would anyone ever call it worm-anything? 'Cause that's just gross.)

Ok, so I'm in the car and off to school. Grocery shopping for dinner will have to wait. I walk into the nurses office with Eucerin, Anti-fungal cream and Cortisone in my holster, ready to shoot. The boys bounce off the wall with how fabulous this day has become. So I say, "Spence, where is the problem on your arm?" And he points to his lemonade squeezer scar.

Now, this delectable little summer event was lost in the blogging dirth of early September, but our first (of two) ER visit for Spencer this summer was when he took a nasty chunk of skin out of his arm in a freak lemonade making accident. That's what you get for registering for some overly expensive Williams Sonoma shwag for your wedding that no one really needs. But that's a whole other post... Needless to say, if there is one thing I am 100% sure of in this world, it is this: That red spot is NOT ring worm. I can tell you that with both my MD's tied behind my back (ok, I only have one).

Cream placed, heads rubbed, boys shooed, mom exited, groceries bought.

Now the question is just how often these two little jokesters are going to play the School Nurse Lottery to see if they win the jackpot again.

Et, Voila!!

2010-11-26T13:51:00.001-08:00

Take a moment, if you haven't already, to look at the photos that run the side of the blog. These were the "during." My home was baby blue and pink before the grand transformation. I will do some more before and after shots in the next post, but HERE IT IS!

The funny thing, of course, is that I have to move all the furniture back out again so they can do the final coat on the floor, but I was going to have Thanksgiving in this house! And NOT in the basement. So, after 17 people were stuffed to the gills with turkey last night, I was one very happy and THANKFUL person.

Sooooo close

2010-11-19T20:09:00.000-08:00

This remodel is in the final, you-can-taste-it, stages. The appliances are all sitting up there. The paint is on the walls, the windows are in and stained. The mudroom has cubbies but no hooks. The bathroom has a toilet and sink, but no medicine cabinet or working lights. The floors are just waiting to be re-revealed from under all the protective cardboard that was placed over it weeks ago.

We have been living in the basement since early June. Why is it that the first 5 months were no biggie, but the last 2 weeks are eternal. It might have something to do with Thanksgiving in 6 days, but even without that, I WANT MY HOUSE BACK!

After being literally and figuratively on top of each other for months, I really look forward to having no idea where Leo is again.

And the winner is...

2010-11-14T20:40:00.000-08:00

... not us.

But that was not unexpected. Omar and I headed to Palm Springs this last weekend for the national Ernst and Young Enterpreneur of the Year award, having won the regional competition in June. But we had sun (i.e. NOT 8 inches of snow), rest, exercise and some quiet for a few days.

The guy who won our category is a man you may have heard of, Jack Link. Enjoy some jerkey if you would like to congratulate him. Other non-winners included CorePower Yoga, Sierra Nevada Brewing company, Sunny Delight, eHarmony, Noodles and Co, and, believe it or not, Magic Johnson.

So the way we look at it, we tied Magic Johnson. Who can say that?

becca

The kids are all right

2010-11-04T10:35:00.000-07:00

Kids have a way of pushing your buttons. Some are better at it than others. Anyone who knows this family knows which kiddo is the one who really knows how to get to Omar and I. The one that we worry about and hope that in the big picture is "going to be OK."

So when the kindergarten teacher asked at conferences "How do you think it's going?" my response was "More importantly, how do YOU think it's going??"

And you know what? She had no concerns. None.

No spacy, spazzy behavior. No alienating other kids with jibberish or nonsensical wackiness. No meltdowns or refusal to maintain an upright body position.

He's just plain ol' normal.

Have you ever heard anything better?

Not a total ogre

2010-10-29T13:03:00.000-07:00

The last time Tomkin and Julie came over, they brought ice cream sundae makings. This resulted in Redi-whip shooters for the kids, solidly locking Tomkin and Julie as some of the best ever friends we have.

Last night, in a reprisal of the same idea, looked a little something like this...

Spencer first, Leo captivated

Calvin next

Max more than happy to be third

And Leo wasn't about to be left out.

And yes, my kids refuse to wear PJ tops.

One lego

2010-10-28T15:28:00.000-07:00

We are at an age when having MORE children in the house actually makes things easier. The crew that 5 minutes prior was so bored is now filled with invention, imagination and joy once the friends arrive. They happily skitter upstairs with sounds of great happiness filling the previously whine-filled air. So there was great hope for the evening last night when our neighbors with 3 kids came over for dinner.

All was going well, the kids were upstairs playing with toys that had previously been collecting dust. Objects of disdain were now ripe with new-found interest. Legos became fantastic again for one shining moment. We had at least 21 minutes of relative peace.

Then came "the blaster."

Now let me be clear. We have one kerchillion legos. All boys can build for hours (in theory) without trouble. That is, unless two of my sons want the same piece. The same piece in a pile of endless possibilities, shapes forms and sizes.

The blaster was needed by all. Compromise was not a possibility. Tears were shed. Body tone was lost. Time outs were had. Parents teeth were gnashed. Adult fists were raised to the heavens.

Just another night in paradise.

Stitches are in the hiz-ouse!

2010-10-22T19:24:00.000-07:00

I have been a mother of boys for 8 years now. The fact that I had not previously had to deal with a single stitch is rather unbelievable (that's if you don't count the stitches Max probably should have had but now has a large scalp scar instead).

So, of course, we were out of town when Spence went head-long into the coffee table. I asked the babysitter to text me a picture of his forehead... that sucker wasn't even borderline. There was NO question that he needed stitches (7 of them, in the end). Omar's poor mother inherited the duty of taking this bleeding child to the hospital and holding his hand. Second ER visit for the little chap in the past 2 months.

And the grim reality of my momma-guilt for not being there? I have absolutely on doubt that Spencer did better WITHOUT me. He was, apparently, a complete champ. No freaking, screaming, crying or melting down.

Huh?

That is one way to mess with my head.

Obstinance

2010-10-12T08:11:00.000-07:00

I could teach a class on Stubborn. Just ask my brother. He spent 16 years living with me. Then go ask my husband. He's working on year number 11... (though I DO think I have improved with time. I actually can speak the words "I'm sorry, I was wrong" now. I don't think my brother EVER heard those words).

So, can it really come as a surprise when I have a kid who throws Stubborn back at me. OOooooohh, I wanted to box Calvin's ears this morning when I got another 2-hour tour of No.

"Calvin, your iPad time is over." --- "Let me just finish this one thing..."
"Calvin, time to get dressed." --- "But I don't want to get dressed."
"Calvin, let's eat at the big table with Leo." --- No.
"Calvin, can you help your little brother with that." --- "But mom, I'm busy."

He's got his own agenda and schedule, and I am REALLY crimpin' his style with all my unreasonable requests... You know, like putting on underwear.

If this if 5yrs old, what is 15 going to look like??

Freedom!!!

2010-10-05T09:29:00.001-07:00

I must say, if I was going to choose a religion, it would be Judaism.

And this has nothing to do with the theology. It has everything to do with the holidays! Sweet mercy, there are a lot of high holy days! How do I know? Because of alllllll the days this past month when I didn't have childcare at the Jewish Community Center.

Yes, I know, this is a rather selfish way of viewing something so sacred, but of the 22 workdays in September, 9 of them were holidays. NINE! That is one REALLY holy month.

So, now we are to October. I have the first day off without one or more children home with me in over a month. AAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh.

My massive To Do list has already been viciously slashed! Next up? Lunch and a run. I might even read a chapter of my book at the local coffee house before the bus comes. I know, I'm a maniac! heehehe

New favorite pic

2010-09-29T19:17:00.001-07:00

How delicious is this little guy, huh?

Oww.

2010-09-29T12:14:00.001-07:00

Legs of lead.

That's what that 4 mile run was. Oof.

Why does it sometimes feel so clunky? I know I looked like one of those people that you drive past and think "wow, is that supposed to be running?"

Some days you got it, some days you don't...

Getting old stinks

2010-09-28T13:10:00.000-07:00

And no, I am not complaining about myself. I, though older, still feel pretty darn young and spry.

However, after having lunch with my dear, wonderful 97-year-old grandmother, I realize that being 97 is just a bit of a drag. As she shuffled off to the dining hall at her assisted living, her stooped body pushing her walker forward, she said to herself "Now, stand up straight Virginia..." but the words were as far as that desire went. Standing up straight isn't an option any more.

We had a lovely lunch, which she insisted on buying for me, and if her memory would just click back into shape, she really would be just as sharp as the day I was born. But those minute to minute details are just lost somewhere in translation. That portion of the brain is like one of those windmills at Putt Putt... every once in a while, information will get through and hit the mark, but most bounce back, deflected from any permanent sticking point. I remind her of where my folks are (Italy), of how many kids I have (4) and what I did yesterday. We repeat that a couple of times during each visit. I ask her questions about the days she remembers clearly, back when memory was just a given. She still has a great sense of humor and thankfully doesn't have much pain. But her days consist mostly of meals and sitting in her chair. She has made it clear that though her life has been so full and wonderful, she is ready for the day that it comes to an end. Not in a morose way, but just accepting.

So here is to living our lives to the fullest with each day we have. Realize that a sound mind and body are truly gifts that we regularly take for granted. Love you, grandma.

Another reason to love the 'hood

2010-09-21T10:59:00.000-07:00

As I sit on the floor stretching, sweat still glistening on my body, I am proud to announce that I have just run the second furthest distance ever in my life. I pulled off 10 miles YEARS ago, before children or the number 3 started my age. But today, I have run 7.2 miles. This is longer than the 6mile distance that has kept me from even entertaining the idea of entering an Olympic distance triathlon. It is only .8 miles shy of the partial marathon I have entered with my family in October.

And you know what? It wasn't that bad.

I have finally hit a point where the cardiovascular part of running isn't the limiting factor. I felt the same at mile 1 as I did at mile 7, and that is something I never really knew was possible. Sure, my feet and legs felt a little different, but that's never been the part I HATED about running. It was more the chest-heaving, side-cramping, air-sucking part.

The funny thing? In this wacked-out crazy fit neighborhood of mine, running 7 miles is like bragging that I managed to shower and put my underwear on correctly. Between the triathletes, Ironwomen and marathon runners, I am just bringing up the rear. But how great is that? If I was surrounded by TV-dinner eating, couch potatoes, I would hurt my shoulder patting myself on the back for running 3 miles. But this gang keeps me pushing. Keeps me inspired.

So here's to all my fit friends and family! I'll see you all in the old folks home in our 90's!

Picture Day

2010-09-20T20:02:00.000-07:00

Now that I have 3 kids in school, there is a lot of paper and general c-rap that has to be dealt with on a daily basis. One of those things, of late, is Picture Day forms. I am usually found staring at the 430,234 different permutations of wallet, 3x5, 5x7, 8x10 and class photos with a glassy-eyed look wondering if just wanting one solitary copy of these silly pictures makes me a bad mother.

Tonight was the night to get this done. And I was completely stoked to see that there was an online option for ordering. If I can accomplish something without having to pick up pen and paper, the chances of getting done will skyrocket. When you add to this that those papers then have to make it into 3 backpacks and arrive at the right place by the right day....? Sketchy at best. I know, this doesn't get me any closer to Mother of the Year, but that's the reality of life in the Ansari house...

So, I finished with the online form. I was feeling all smug that I could cross that little ditty off my To Do list. Then the final screen pops up.

"Print this Photo Voucher. YOUR CHILD MUST HAVE THIS PIECE OF PAPER ON PICTURE DAY to have pictures taken."

Really? See, cause, I did this whole online thing to avoid that! Don't you now have record (not to mention my credit card number) to assure this could be paperless? What is the point of online ordering if you still have to return a form with the kid?

Sheeesh....

Cut bait

2010-09-15T21:14:00.000-07:00

Ok, I keep not posting because I feel like there is SOOOOO much I have to catch up on. This is exactly the kind of mentality that caused my last diary entry to be in 1988. It's been a busy 22 years, so it's tough get the schedule clear enough for that monster entry.

So, in an effort to not ice this blog until 2032, here's the Cliff note version to allow me to just hit the reset button:

1) The McClusky and Nicholas brigade returned for the now-annual end o' summer frolic in Lone Lake. It rocked. I love these guys. There are too many pictures to post. But these give you the general idea:

2) My 2 five-year-old's started Kindergarten. And though I was living in fear that there could be some grade-A, last-minute cold feet, the monumental melt-down that was lurking in my mind never came to pass. I didn't have to push either of their tear soaked, boneless bodies onto the bus with a sheepish smile and thumbs-up to the driver. They hopped happily on board so fast the only picture I got was of the back of their heads. Good thing, since I have lost those photos in my temporary idiocy of over-jamming my hard drive and loosing data before having someone rip my lap top open to install 650GB of memory. Well played, I know... I'm sure not having pictures of the first day of kindergarten for 50% of my kids will NEVER come back to haunt me in some future family therapy session...

3) My folks hit the cabin with us for Labor Day, and this was 2 days after my mom had somewhat surprise laproscopic knee surgery. Way to be a trooper Mom!

3) I have started yoga. This has reminded me that the days of cheerleading limberness are FAR behind me. No pictures of that, thank god...

4) Leo turned 2!! What a fantastically little joy that boy is in our lives. Unfortunately the Vikings weren't kind enough to give Leo on win for his birthday.

Ok. DONE! I am caught up. Now I can return to the day to day nonsense that makes this life fun. Like Spencer announcing yesterday "I didn't close the door when I went inside because my poopy was already coming out, but it DIDN'T get on my clothes! (huge proud grin)." Now THAT's the stuff that makes this baby sing!

Give it up for MARY!

2010-09-12T18:43:00.000-07:00

So, my friend Mary was publicly saying she would like to finish her first (note I didn't say ONLY) Ironman somewhere between 12-14 hours.

Now, if you know Mary, you know this is the save face answer. The "I am trying to not completely shoot myself in the foot" answer. But even she was able to let some folks know that she would really like to rock this race. She has prepared SO HARD for this.

11:35

She rocked it. She ROCKED it!

So this blog has finally been resuscitated to sing to the rafters this refrain: Mary, you are a wonderful, beautiful, AMAZING Ironman!!!

Welcome!

2010-08-16T08:33:00.000-07:00

I feel like a terrible daughter for not yet announcing with great joy that my parents are now Minnesotans! They have been unpacking like crazy for the past 3 weeks and are finally happily ensconced in their beautiful new home.

So, how do you say Welcome properly?
How do you say "We are so happy you are here?"
How do you thank them for all they do?
How do you celebrate the first night the boys got to sleep over at the new house?

Puke.

That's how.

Calvin was at least kind enough to splatter the tile floor, perfectly wedged between two carpeted areas, so I really feel like this was a true success story.

Welcome to Minnesota!

Playing with scissors

2010-08-11T08:31:00.000-07:00

This is what is left of the headphones that I work-out with.

And this is a result NOT of Leo playing with the scissors. Yes, he did get his hands on the scissors, but this is what happened when they were removed from the babies' hands. By my husband.

That's right. Omar did this.

Apparently it's safer to leave this scissors with the baby.

Musings from a working mother

2010-08-09T08:38:00.001-07:00

And here we go again.

I came back to the cabin after a run, and there is Omar on the couch, reading a magazine in great peace and solitude. The kids are all up in the loft playing HAPPILY together. No whining, no crying, no pawing at dad, no chewing on each other. Just one happy family... as long as I am not there.

This fact really sticks in both O and I's craw. Why can't we all be happy together when we are together? I actually snuck into the cabin so I wouldn't disrupt all this healthy behavior. I sat down silently, putting my finger up to my lips in Omar's general direction, and I stretched like a church mouse.

But then, they saw me.

And then the wheels fell off. Down, down, down they come, "Mommy!!!" Smiles and hugs, yea! Then the "Can you do this with me, can you do that with me, can you read me this book, can you play a game with me, come upstairs we have a show to show you," on and on and on.

When I can't possibly do it all (nor, at that moment did I want to do ANY of it), then the whining begins, the "but you said...." or "please" or "you never (read: just 2 hours ago) do this..." And then I get incredibly frustrated that no one seems to be able to simply continue with what they were doing before I showed up.

So, what is the deal? Is it just a mom thing? Is it a boy-mom thing? Is it just us? This is when I start waxing all philosophical-like about parenting... Does this mean I spend too much time away from them as a working mom, and this is just a sign of them needing more of me in their lives? Or is it that I spend too much time with them, i.e. entertaining them whenever I am around. Do they simply not know how to "be" when I am there because we always "do." Did we have too many kids, and now none of them gets the 1-on-1 attention they deserver? Is it normal, healthy behavior from young boys towards the person they trust and bond with the most? Is is horribly unhealthy, clingy behavior from young boys that need to learn how to entertain themselves? Is it both??? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaghhhghg!

Something tells me I may never actually have the answer to these questions.... But here's to driving myself nuts trying to figure it out anyway.

Laundry

2010-08-06T08:46:00.001-07:00

Yes, one of our babysitters charges an enormous amount of money. She is in her 30's, used to be a nanny and when we come home the house is clean and the laundry is folded.

Can I tell you how much that folded laundry thing meant to me last night?

Priceless.

Tri tri and tri again

2010-07-28T08:01:00.001-07:00

This is going to be a long post... This past weekend was filled with fun, tears, blood and illness. And all that was before I even started my own tri. It all went down a little like this....

We woke the kids at 6:30am on Saturday for the big Chisago Kids Triathlon. Leo was with Omar's folks so we could take the rest of the happy family for a 45 minute drive to the kids' race on the shortened course that I would be racing on Sunday. Max was joining us as a cheering party. Having nothing but frustration in his attempts to master a bike without training wheels, he had no interest in being a racer. But the twins were totally excited to race, training wheels and all.

We feared this may have been a grave error when Spencer kicked things off with a HUGE meltdown. Kicking, tears, complete freak-out. Can you believe I DARED to put milk in his Frosted Flakes. Make them all squishy like that? I mean, really? What kind of a mother am I?

After a time-out and a touch of force feeding, we were in the car. Omar was looking at me with one of those "why must you share your tri mental illness with the rest of us" kind of faces.

Smooch.

We unloaded the car, and Cal and Spence both wanted to ride their bikes to the transition area. They were on the bikes ~3.5 seconds when they collided and both went down. This is on a road, mind you, and Spence's head landed far too close to a passing car's rear tire. But the bloodied knee was really his biggest concern. We were in the Med Tent before we even put our stuff down.

Ok. Knee bandaged. Bikes set. Kids excited. Friends from the 'hood all around. NOW we are set to have some fun! They call all racers to the beach. Here we go!

(yes, my kids all have faux-hawks...)

...Clearly, the race organizers aren't parents. They released the kids in reverse order of age, starting with the 12 year olds. Then waited ~7 minutes.... then the 11 year olds... 7 minutes... you get the idea. So there we are, at 9am in nothing but swim trucks, for 45 minutes of standing in the same place on the beach. Do you know how well 5 year olds stand in one place for 45 minutes with nothing to do? I will tell you. Not particularly well. Ooof.

NOW it's really race time. Really. The kids line up in the lake! Here we go! This is what it's all about! The love of racing that will carry my kids all the way to Kona! Why is Spencer weeping? There he is, clutching his bandaged knee, "It's burning!! It's burning." And with that, he's on the DL. Pluck him from the water. His race is done.

OFF goes Calvin. And this really was the highlight of the day. He LOVED it. Did the whole race (all ~10 minutes of it) with a huge smile on his face.

He looked like he had won the lottery when they placed the medal around his neck as he crossed the finish line. It was truly fantastic. Max was running along side him cheering him on and being such a proud big brother.

And god love Cal's kind little heart. When he saw Spencer was weeping at the news that there wasn't another chance to race, and he was not going to get a medal, Cal took his off and put it around Spencer's neck. Then Max bought his brothers donuts with his own money. (this is, of course, after we found Calvin... he got lost in the crowd for about 10 minutes after the race).

But we aren't done yet! Time for a photo of all the neighborhood kids! Yea! Let's capture all that we love about these friends and all of our kids, together! Why is Max crying... sobbing in fact, separate from the other kids? Well, one of the older kids told him he couldn't be in the picture because he didn't race. He was completely devastated. But this is one of those tough parenting moments. Do I force the issue, put him in the picture when, ya know, he DIDN'T race. Sure it would have been nice to have it be a neighborhood picture, not a racers picture, but when all was said and done, there was a bit of a lesson to be learned. If you choose not to participate, you won't necessarily be included.

So, I think we have all learned a lot of life lessons here today. Max came home and spend much of the afternoon trying to ride his bike (he's closer, but still working on it). Cal has worn his medal to summer camp every day. Spence... well, I'm not sure if Spencer learned much, but we will try to incorporate this experience into future decision making. And I learned that Omar should ABSOLUTELY not bring the kids back out on Sunday to cheer for me.

It was in the car ride home that we realized Omar was in the process of spiking at 102 fever. And when Cal was rifling through his race packet on the way home, he opened a little squeeze packet, sucked the contents out a bit and then asked us why it tasted yucky. That is lotion Calvin. Lesson learned.

And yes, I did leave my husband home with the kids the next day. I had a great time on Sunday, finished 3 minutes faster than last year, and took 2nd in the Athena. The winner was from Seattle?!!? So, the way I see it, I took 2nd in a national competition. Mary, Jen, Nathan, Jon and I were all pretty happy with the day.

And Mary took 3rd in her age group for the HALF IRONMAN. What a major stud that woman is...

See you all again next year, same crazy bat-place, same station.

Why?

2010-07-23T11:43:00.000-07:00

Why would you sign up for a race that you have already won?

What an idiot I am. Here comes the Chisago Triathlon this weekend, the one I took first place in last year (as an ATHENA!...). Now, I'm all sweaty palmed about the race, wondering if I am going to repeat my previous glory or go down in pathetic 8th or 29th-place flames.

How does that old phrase go? "Quit while you are on top" or "No place to go but down?" And my training has been... fine? I haven't really been following a "plan," per se. I have just gone out there many times a week and worked out. When I was sick of running, I biked. When I was sick of biking, I swam.

Well. Wish me luck. I hope I don't curse profoundly when I look at the winner board. But hey, at least if I completely stink up the joint, there is no place to up but up...

Keeps ya guessin

2010-07-15T07:40:00.000-07:00

Spencer is the cuddly kid. Max is the kid that feels most comfortable around his home and his people. Leo's in that phase where he cries whenever I leave him.

But Calvin has always been the one that is rock solid when it comes time to part ways. He used to run into his Pre-K class and never look back. I would have to seek him out in order to get a goodbye hug. When the whole family is snuggling in bed in the morning, he's the kid that's sitting on the curb in his PJ's because he would rather see the garbage truck than hug.

Thus, I am completely stymied by the fact that he is now heave-sobbing when I drop him off at summer camp. Like crying to the point I can still hear him when I am 200 yards away.

Huh?

I have tried to explore if there is something at camp that scares him, or someone who is being mean or nasty to him. His answer? "No mom. I just miss you."

And Max and Spencer are flitting off without a second glance in my direction.

Just when you think you have some things nailed down....

Top Hat

2010-07-14T09:14:00.000-07:00

When Omar was out of town, Max had a great soccer game. It was officially the first time he has ever won a soccer game, and we started soccer last summer.

So, I was encouraging Max to tell dad about the game. Here's how that went:

Max: Dad, we won!
Dad: You guys won! That's awesome.
Max: Yeah.
Dad: How did you play.
Max: Really good. I got a top hat.
Dad: You got a top hat?
Max: Yeah, a top hat.
Dad: What does that mean?
Max: You know, I got 4 goals.
Dad: Oh! You mean a Hat Trick?
Max: Yeah. A hat trick.

Then Max filled in our buddy Vince last night. He let him know that he had a Trick Hat.

Dear Omar

2010-07-05T20:58:00.000-07:00

My dear husband is living the life every ex-liberal arts graduate dreams of... drinking beer in Prague while playing a week of Ultimate Frisbee. The wife, i.e. Me, is at home with the kids and workin' and getting lots of help from the fam. I have been in OKC for the past two weeks, only the first of which included my hubby. So, we are officially in the middle of the longest time we have ever spent apart.

The problem is that our communication is a little sketchy. So, you good people are going to have to bear with me while I use the blog as my main source of contacting him. Gotta love the Interweb.

Hi, my love. It's Tuesday night. I am trying to get all the 4 backpacks, lunches, bathing suits and sandals and such together tonight so I don't lose my mind tomorrow before work. The cabin was a blast. While Max and I had races running in the water from the edge of the dock back to the beach, Leo stood in the water (naked as a jaybird) just laughing his head off. He even started to try to race with us. This usually resulted in me losing because I had to stop and pluck his fallen-over self out of the water. The big three and I went around the lake in the speed boat for a long time this morning. Unfortunately that meant I ran of out gas shortly after the tubing began. I found that one paddle doesn't move a speed boat one solitary inch. The neighbors had to drag me back to shore.

Your dad was going to come out and get us (thankfully we were still in shouting distance of the dock), but the pontoon wouldn't start (big surprise). Never did get the thing to start for the entirety of our stay. And wouldn't you know it, the two kids stranded in the little tubing boat were Spencer and Alex. It was interesting.

I got two great swims in. I am ready for that Open Water part of the tri. We saw a bald eagle 3 seperate times. I wondered what I would do if one of the eagles thought I looked like a tasty morsel down on the water. The kids are all in bed and Spence even let me take out a splinter in his hand (with the promise of a quarter, the hand holding of big brother and the dancing of Cal all over the bathroom as comic distraction).

Oh, and Leo now says "Okey dokey!" which is pretty cute.

I love you and can't wait for you to be home.

aywannnit!

2010-06-17T20:57:00.000-07:00

Why must all children go through this. Why does my always-happy, smiley, contented little baby have to become a 2 year old?

Granted, he won't be 2 until September, but I have always found the real "terrible 2's" start and ~20months. And, ladies and gentlemen, we are there. All of a sudden, he wants to do everything by himself. He wants to sit on the tall bar chairs with his brothers. He wants to eat what the big kids are eating, and drink out of the big kid glasses. Sippy cups are for loosers.

We are trying to work on "more milk please" instead of "aywaaaannnittt!"

Here's to the next 18 months.

My home

2010-06-14T14:56:00.000-07:00

This is my home. There used to be a wall where those pipes are sticking out of the ground. I didn't previously see the back yard when I stood in the front! It took 3 days for them to remove damn near everything from the house.... Now just 5 months to put it all together again.

Go ahead...

2010-06-13T18:32:00.000-07:00

... and ask me if he won.

It's OK. I know it's been 3 days since the big Ernst and Young Gala and I haven't posted. We are busy with birthdays and anniversaries and getting away from this crazy dust-covered house of ours for the weekend.

But you can ask.

'Cause my hubbies A BIG WINNER, BABY!

That's right. Entrepreneur of the Year with a trophy to prove it. We now have one winter vacation on the books, because Palm Springs HERE WE COME. National awards are next, can you believe it?

Frank Vacellero hosted this gala. Jay Leno will be the emcee at the next. Good thing I have just the gown!

Bring on the wrecking ball

2010-06-06T05:57:00.000-07:00

This is the week. On Wednesday they start tearing apart the kitchen and main living area of our house. We moved much (but not all) of the kitchen into the bar area in the basement yesterday.

The problematic part of this plan is the "but not all." So this is how my morning went at 5:15am getting ready to go to work.

Go to basement, make coffee.
Go upstairs to get bagel.
Go to basement to put bagel in toaster.
(dry hair)
Wash coffee mug upstairs
Go to basement to fill mug with coffee and get bagel
Go upstairs for cream and cream cheese
Scratch head and come up with creative solution of how to stir coffee and spread cream cheese without silverware.

The nice thing about this? Living in the basement, once everything is down there, is going to seem nice!

Why is Calvin crying?

2010-06-05T07:06:00.001-07:00

Not because Leo was coloring on him with a marker.

He's crying because we were all laughing about it.

Night Shift

2010-06-02T23:39:00.000-07:00

Ah, nothing like blogging at 2:40am.... I suppose the fact that I haven't blogged at any time when the sun is visible in the last couple weeks should tell me something about this life of mine.

As I sat at a restaurant having breakfast with my eldest the other day (late start for school), I realized that each of my children could be summed up by how they would sit in the booth with me at a restaurant. Let me explain.

Max, as he always does, sits next to me. He would rather be side-by-side, in position to allow me to put an arm around him, or allow him to lean over at any time to put his little noggin on my shoulder. And if it's a really good day, he might even whisper "mom, you are the best." This position also allows the occasional whisper or inside joke.

Calvin, on the other hand, will always sit across from me. He has no time for this lovey-dovey stuff and would want to be able to look me in the eye to have a detailed discussion about whatever he is currently fascinated by. That, or he would need the table space to work on something.

Spence wouldn't be sitting at all. He has trouble keeping his keister in contact with any chair surface, whether that means he is on his knees or on his feet. He is the one flitting all around the table.

And Leo, of course, is in the high chair. Taking in all of the madness at this table I have set for you, trying to make everyone giggle as much as he can. That is, when he isn't throwing food on the ground and giggling.

And Omar is the one asking for the check!

Catching up

2010-05-18T14:17:00.000-07:00

So, in the process of moving our existence into the basement in preparation for ripping our house apart June 1st, I have to get organized. This means putting all the kids art in SOME home. Usually it is just floating around the house in some sort of perfect entropy.

This made me read over Max's Mother's Day card he made at school. It is so perfect:

"My mom is the most awesome person I know. She is very funny, and blue-eyed. Very tall too. My mom is the best doctor in the world. She reads the best books, and once in awhile, she washes the dishes and makes dinner. She does puzzles with us. Every once in a while. She has friends over to play games. I love my mom!"

This comes with a fantastic Max rendition of me.

This is the stuff that just makes parenting so fantastically wonderful. Even if I only wash the dishes every once in a while...

I present to you...

2010-04-27T04:42:00.000-07:00

...my husband.

Let's start back a bit. When O and I first met, he was running the business his dad had taken over ~30 years prior. It was a manufacturing and distributing company of industrial abrasives (you aren't the only one thinking "huh?"). It became clear over the first 2-3 years of our relationship that Omar was going to be around a lot longer than that business. The looming question, however, was what was Omar going to do when bandsaw blades and grinding wheels just didn't pay the bills.

This was a source of some real stress. Omar had never had a boss other than his dad (unless you count his days as a waiter at the Lincoln Dells), he had started his MBA but didn't really see a future in joining some other business or being a consultant.

Of course, anyone reading this blog knows how that story turned out. But let us recall some of the steps....

He went to brewing school. He changed the law of Brooklyn Center which explicitly banned breweries when we first toyed with the idea. Then there was the self-demo of the building which included a little carbon monoxide poisoning and a punctured water line (whose turn-off valve was buried 6 feet under the landscaping in front of the building). There was the actual brewery (you know all the big metal tanks, kettles, fementers) bought second hand from the Dominican Republic, a portion of which turned out the be the equivalent of a very heavy paperweights. These also arrived the same week as another "arrival," Calvin and Spencer. And who can forget the bartender who, after proclaiming his favorite beer was Bud Light, spit the beer out when Omar first hit the streets to sell his wares.

There were industry folks who told him he would just go the way of the many failed breweries that had proceeded him. There were people who told him the only way to succeed was to be a distributor, not a producer. And of course, there was that spitting guy.

So why am I telling you all of this?

Because yesterday, Omar was named a regional finalist in the Ernst & Young Entrepreneur of the Year Award! He and I will attend a black tie gala in June to hear the announcement of who is the winner for the Midwest. Spit on that!

I am so proud of my hubby. Way to go babe! You have worked so hard and deserve this so much. I love you.

Jibberish

2010-04-26T11:45:00.000-07:00

You would think that by the age of 37, I would have the ability to let the little things slide. In general, this is actually something I take a little pride in.

But poking holes in self-perception is one of the reasons children were invented.

Spencer loves to speak in jibberish. Who cares, right? Big whoop. So he jabbers on, with no meaning, no purpose. No sweat.

I. Can't. Stand. It.

It drives me completely insane. I have actually told him to "speak in English!" and then have this crushing sense of being the evil mother that belittled his creative spirit at a very young age, forever scaring him and limiting his potential to ever become the next Picasso.

Jibberish shows creativity. It shows imagination. It shows he isn't stuck in this A-type, purpose driven, goal-oriented cage I keep striving for.

It shows he really knows how to push my buttons...

Privates

2010-04-19T12:32:00.000-07:00

After a fun filled afternoon of bathing suit shopping with Mary and Rox (yes, I said FUN. Great little shop that brings you suits according to size and body type), I headed off to Spring Break with my new suit.

It wasn't at all what I expected to buy. And the gal pals actually had to talk me into buying it because it was a black one piece. It seemed kinda boring after all the other ones I had looked at, but they just kept saying "You look so HOT in that" that I had to buy it.

The key component to the look of this suit is the deep cut V neck. It's not J-Lo-green-dress kind of deep cut, but you are getting into the neighborhood.

The first day I wore it, Spencer looks at my cleavage and says "Mom, you aren't covering your private parts."

Nice, huh?

It only got better when Cal said "Yes she is. She only has to cover the really fatty parts."

What?!?!

2010-04-07T20:05:00.000-07:00

My teeth are my Super Power.

I have perfect teeth.

I have never had braces and they are all perfectly straight. I have never had a filling. I never floss, I brush once a day and ~10 years ago the dental hygienist I saw (after ~3 years of not seeing a dentist) told me I need not even return for 2 more years because she couldn't believe how good my teeth looked.

So, today was the day for my now-annual teeth cleaning. Yeah, yeah, yeah, they say to go every 6 months, but that is just what the Medical Establishment says to get all my hard earned money (earned from the Medical Establishment...).

They said I need 3 fillings.

WHAT!!?!?!? I don't DO fillings. Did you miss the fact that my teeth are perfect?? What are you doing bringing your dental Kryptonite into my lovely day off? And the dentist just said it all with such casual, matter-of-factness. "It will take an hour. Just set up the appointment on your way out...."

I am speechless. What the hell happened? Why would my teeth betray me after 37 years of perfectly established benign neglect? Does this mean I'm getting old? You might as well start crafting the dentures now...

One Dollar

2010-03-22T18:50:00.000-07:00

We have the best cleaning crew around. This place looks utterly spotless every time they come around, and you would never believe 4 kids lived here.

They do this by hiding things.

Missing a big pile of junk? Look in the china cabinet. Legos missing? Well, they are under the stereo, of course.

The lesson I have learned is this: if you want to know where something is, you had best put it away BEFORE they clean.

Unfortunately, I forgot this rule when it came to Leo's blanket this morning. Bed time rolled around tonight, and that thing was no where to be found.

So, Omar and I puttered around looking for it for ~15 minutes to no avail. Finally, Omar announced to the kids "I will give ONE DOLLAR to the kid that finds Leo's blankie!" Max gasps - "A WHOLE dollar???" Calvin starts saying "I am going to get that BIG dollar...." And the search is on.

Now, of course, you know who ends up finding the silly thing. That would be me. In the bottom of one of the laundry baskets. So, I toss it in a fairly findable place, and Spencer "finds" it. Well, then Max starts in with "but I SAW it first..." And in the distance we hear the wailing cries of Calvin.

".... I ..... NEVER.... get.... the.... dollar!!! (heave sob)."

Mind you, this is the first time this offer has been made, ever.

Last thing Cal says as I tuck him in 1 hour later: "Mom, I never get the money."

It is so hard to be cheated out of such cold, hard cash.

Brothers

2010-03-18T09:02:00.000-07:00

Part of the daily routine is getting Leo packed into his backpack and getting a slick ride to the JCC on mom's back. But, with the snow melted and the sun shining, today was the first day Leo got to put on his big-boy legs and walk there all by himself. (Ok, not BY HIMSELF, but you get the idea).

Big brothers were there to make sure he did it right!

Also today, Omar and Max took off the the annual father/son ski trip. They returned to the scene of last year's crime, Big Sky Montana. Max, with his endless empathy, yet again made me want to squeeze him until his head pops off this morning. He came in at 6:30am to wake me before they headed out to the airport. He looked at me very seriously and said:

Mom. Don't let Leo cry because I'm not here.

or was it

Mom. Don't let Leo cry, because I'm not here.

You see, Max is the first in Leo's room every morning, the minute he hears a peep. He sloggs his lanky 7 year old body into the crib and plays with the baby he loves so much. Then he climbs out, lugs Leo over the rail, and brings him into our bed. So, I don't know if Max was telling me that it was MY turn to make sure someone tended to his brother since he wasn't going to be able to this morning, or if he was concerned Leo would cry because he was going to miss Max so much.

Either way, I just think that kid is such a good egg.

Sweet mother of Abraham!

2010-03-12T14:13:00.001-08:00

I did it!

I survived the 9 of 11 working days. It was extra grueling because it was almost all evenings during the week and then days during the weekends. I have today off and I already have a nap in the rear view mirror! (of course I also have Leo, who was sent home with a fever at noon.... good thing that nap was the FIRST THING on the To Do list).

Sweet LORD that feels nice.

I must say, if I hadn't considered that whole "cutting back my hours" thing until now, this last 11 days would have pushed the issue to the fore. Max came up to me this past weekend, all droopy-dog eyed, said nothing as he came up and hugged my waist. Then he pulled back and dropped the ol' "when are you NOT going to be going to work, mom?" bomb. That hurts....

I know this is basically what residency was like, and that lasted 3 years. I have become weak. But I just want to be home with my family more.

I can't wait to have them all get sick of me when I'm around all the time!

First Text of the day

2010-03-06T06:38:00.000-08:00

I am currently sitting in Maple Grove at the new hospital. This shift starts at 6:00am, which means I got up at 4:45am. This is coming off the night shift the day before. And I am currently in a stretch of working 9 out of 11 days.

I am a little tired.

However, at 8:03 I was very happy to be at work. This text came in from the hubby:

"Where is the carpet cleaner?"

Leo, the diaper removing baby, had struck again. Little man, thank you for doing the one thing that puts this current scheduling black-hole in a friendlier light....

Not much else to say...

2010-02-25T14:31:00.000-08:00

I am REALLY tired of winter.

Cabo

2010-02-19T19:34:00.000-08:00

A couple photos from the trip. No hot tub shots. We really DIDN'T spend the whole time drinking, but these are the photos that are the best...

First Pina Colada

The Arch at the land's end of Baja

Surly takes a trip snorkeling

Me and my honey

And... I'm back

2010-02-16T10:47:00.000-08:00

Long hiatus there! One trip to Cabo in the rear view mirror, and now we are back to life as we know it! Since the photos of us in Mexico usually bring comments that we look naked (and I can't say they were compliments), I will save those for another day.... Needless to say, it was divine to walk around in shorts and have to remember sunscreen every day. Three night away felt like 3 weeks.

But now, it's reality time again. Having trashed the house yesterday with everyone home for President's day, it was time to get some things in order (though I am THRILLED to announce that the boys cleaned their room, the toy room and the basement yesterday! I didn't even have to stand there and point at each item on the floor and say "and this one... and this one... and this one").

There I am, doing laundry, when I start laughing out loud. The humor of this upcoming photo needs a little history. I have taken over the annual tradition of cooking grandma Sheldon's famous Pecan Rolls at Christmas time. And this year I actually remembered to buy the right amount of yeast packets (Mary, had you realized I hadn't bummed any off you this year?). Still forgot the shortening... but anyway. I was well into the recipe on Christmas Eve when I realized I had NO idea where my rolling pin was. Search as I might, it was just plain gone. Why would a rolling pin be anywhere other than the kitchen? Well, there was no answer to that, so I discoved that a Nalgene bottle works really well in a pinch. Never did find that thing...

until today...

Why, oh sweet mother of all that is holy, is the rolling pin next to the dryer? One of many great mysteries I am sure this house holds... only some of which I will be lucky enough to discover with time...

Setting the bar

2010-02-05T19:38:00.000-08:00

Tonight, I decided it was time for the new idea of Friday movie night. Omar is out at a beer event, Leo goes to bed at 7:00... it was time to sit with the big three and have a fun OnDemand movie with popcorn.

Well, the kids just picked at dinner, so there went the popcorn.

The On Demand didn't work, so we ended up watching a DVD we own. I was pretty excited when they actually chose Planet Earth (thanks Omi and Baba!) instead of our 34502nd viewing of The Incredibles (though that movie DOES rock).

So there we are, watching a section about the giant salamander of Japan. Very cool, huge creature that apparently can live up to 80 years old. I reiterated to the kids how crazy old that was for an animal, to which Max replied "Wow mom, that's even older than Brett Favre!"

We have one measuring stick around here.... All Vikings, all the time.

Kid-speak

2010-02-04T07:06:00.000-08:00

Last night, Spencer choked a little bit while eating dinner. He had to cough and sputter. He got the watery eyes and a look of discomfort on his face. When all was said and done, he was fine.

Then, he turns to me and says "Mom, food just went down my air throat!"

Pretty good description.