1,460 days

My dearest boy,

It's impossible to believe that I wrote this blog to celebrate your third birthday an entire year ago.  So much has happened in the past year, and throughout it all, you have remained your sweet self.

Bubble boy

You have handled the biggest change of the year, The Move, with as much grace as a three year old boy could have.  Sure, you have had your moments of meltdowns, but those have been few and far between.  Overall, you have really taken to our new home in a new town with joy and ease.  I was worried, to tell the truth, because change isn't usually your bag.  When faced with a new situation, you tend to hold back, let things unfold, and then decide what you think about it all.  But with The Move, you were ready to embrace something new.  It helped that we had visited Valpo so many times and that we had family here, but it still could have been really difficult.  You have taken to your new school...I think.  You are happy when I drop you off and happy when I pick you up.  Often, that's the only clues I get to however your day was.  You're not big into talking about your activities of the day, but you share things with me throughout the week in little bits and pieces.  That's just who you are, though, so it doesn't bother me in the least.  I'm on a need-to-know basis with school information, and I suppose that's something I should get used to.

At one of Kate's volleyball games

You're still really, really obsessed with pirates.  Your new room is loaded with pirate paraphernalia, and you love to play in there.  One of my favorite things that you do is your "evil" pirate laugh: you fancy yourself as quite the scurvy cur.  I'm pretty sure you would wear your pirate costume 24/7 if I would let you.  Quite frankly, I have let you from time to time because it was a lot easier than arguing with you.  We recently went to the courthouse in town, and you were in full pirate regalia.  You couldn't take your hook inside because no weapons were allowed, but that's about the only time you haven't had a hook or sword in your hand.  You're also crazy about super heroes, the Avengers in particular.  I know next to nothing about all that stuff, but you don't seem to notice or care.  We have supplied you with enough super hero shirts and shoes to last you a lifetime...or at least until you grow out of them.

I'll throw you in the brig, me bucco! 

Your current favorite thing to do is browse Halloween catalogs.  There is something about dressing up like a rough and tough guy that really appeals to you.  I wish I knew if that was because that's how you see yourself or if it's who you wish you could be.  Either way, it's fun to watch you change your mind a million times a day about what costume you want to wear for Halloween.  You also love to sit at a little desk in your bedroom and look at books at night.  I wish that you wouldn't feel the need to pull every single book off the shelf every single night, but I can't complain too much about reading.  And you do read.  You know how to spell like nobody's business, and you read a crazy amount of words.  I'm not sure you understand how wonderful that is for so many reasons.  Not only is reading awesome but you use books to entertain yourself all the time, so I know you're going to learn the joy of losing yourself in a book.

Don't bother me.  I'm reading. 

You have become braver and more confident in the past year.  You used to be afraid of being in the pool, but you have come to enjoy it.  You don't mind getting dirty as much as you used to as long as it's all in the name of fun.  (Or if Lottie tells you to get dirty.)  New things can still stress you out, but somehow you have learned to adapt to them quicker than you used to.  You're growing and maturing so quickly that it easy to forget sometimes that you're only four years old.

Splashing in puddles on S. Ashland Ave. 

Mud fun

You say "sometimes" when you mean "sometime" and it makes Lottie crazy.  You tell your sister that she's being "undorable" when she annoys you.  You like to call people "bilge rat" and "scurvy dog" when the mood strikes you.  I mean, you're a funny kid, and you have absolutely no idea how hilarious you are.  You make us laugh, and that's the best gift of all.  One thing that I admire about you is the fact that you know exactly what you want: you know who you are.  You like to play your own games, and you enjoy taking some time alone.  If someone offers you something or wants to do something with you that doesn't appeal to you, you simply say, "No, thanks."  You are politely unapologetic about doing your own thing.  I think we could all learn from that.

Making silly faces at Cinderella's Royal Table

You still love to cuddle me, and I take advantage of that every minute that I can.  I know that someday you won't run up, kiss me, and say, "I love you so much, Mom." You might still give me a one-armed hug now and again, but you won't want me to snuggle with you in the morning before school.  You won't lay your big head against my shoulder when you're hurt and just need your mama.  But in my heart I know that you will always be my sweet, tender, smart, empathetic boy.  That's who you are, and that's who you will always be.

Snuggling with your fire truck 

Daddy and I are so proud of you every day, and we love you so, so much.

Pic pirate,  (Not a typo - just a private message to Dallas)
Mommy

Aaaarghhhhh!

Precious down time

Loud noises are still not exciting

The moving plague

If you saw my last post, you'll know that Lottie was really sick the day we moved into the new house.  After a day on antibiotics, she was feeling back to her normal self.  I was happy that she felt better, but I was a little sad in a way because she was back to being loud, loud, loud.  I was particularly annoyed with her constant talking as I tried to unpack boxes, but I didn't know at the time it was because I was also getting sick.

On the Sunday after The Move, I started feeling a little under the weather.  I chalked it up to all the stress of dealing with the shiftless movers and the constant exhaustion from the thyroid issues.  But when I woke up Monday morning, my throat hurt and my ears were hurting.  I had to take Lottie back to the doctor for her follow-up appointment that morning, so I figured I could call and see the doctor myself while we were there.  Au contraire.  When I called to get an appointment for me, I was told that because I was a new patient, there was no way I could be seen that day.  I was already on the edge, and hearing that news didn't sit well with me.  I hung up the phone and promptly burst into tears.  I wasn't sixty seconds into my tantrum when my cell phone rang with a call from a Lexington number.  It was my endocrinologist's office calling to say that my next appointment had to be rescheduled because both my doctor and his assistant would be out of town.  Uh huh.  GREAT timing.  I had been waiting for this appointment because I know that my thyroid medication still isn't working, and I need some answers before I start Hulk-smashing everything in sight.  Already in tears, I explained to the nurse on the phone that I was driving six hours to get to the appointment, and there was no way I was going to give up my slot.  She was very kind and said I could keep the appointment and see another doctor in the practice.  Crisis averted.  But I was still sick and feeling worse by the minute.  I visited a Minute Clinic at a local CVS and was diagnosed with an ear infection.  I left with a prescription and the hope that I would be much better the next morning.  You know where this is going, right?

Credit: http://www.rolemommy.com/sore-throat1.jpg

Tuesday morning arrived, and I felt worse.  My best friend Tiffany was coming from Colorado that day with her daughter Frankie, and I was willing myself to be instantly well.  I ended up sending T to pick them up from O'Hare because I didn't trust myself to make the drive.  I was so happy to see them that afternoon that I think I psyched myself into thinking everything was okay.  I continued to take my antibiotics, but by Wednesday afternoon, I knew something was still wrong.  I went to an off-hours clinic here in town out of sheer desperation, and wow, that was an experience.  The nurses were mean, the exam room was dirty, and I'm pretty sure there was blood on the wall.  That doctor said that if the antibiotics weren't working, my problem was probably viral.  He did a strep test and a mono test, and he promised to call in THREE DAYS with the results.  Three days?  Was he kidding?  (And, by the way, I never heard back from him.)  He sent me on my way with a prescription for cortisone pills and the advice to gargle with watered down Benadryl to ease my throat pain.  There were more tears from me, though this time I waited until I was alone in the car to lose it.  I was, as always, exhausted, I was in pain, and nothing was helping.  The next morning, my mom called and told me to get up and get dressed: my dad was taking me to another doctor.  I guess even when you're almost 40 years old, you're still your parents' baby.  My dad drove me to Franciscan ExpressCare where I filled out more forms and waited for someone else to dismiss my pain.  I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a great nurse and seen by a very kind doctor.  The doctor did another strep test and mono test, and I had immediate results: both tests were negative.  The doc was at a bit of a loss since the other antibiotics hadn't worked, so she decided a shot of something from the penicillin family was the way to go.  I was skeptical but I also knew I had nothing to lose.  By that afternoon, my sore throat was 90% gone.  I was thrilled but also waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Friday morning dawned beautiful and pain-free.  Yippee ki yay!!  I was able to go to the fair that afternoon with my dad, Tiffany, and the three kids and FINALLY truly enjoy their visit.  I don't know what my ailment was or why the oral antibiotics didn't work, but I'm grateful that I finally found someone who knew what she was doing to help.  Thanks, Dr. Pumputis!

There is no way I would have made it through the last few weeks without my family and friends.  My parents have been indispensable: they have helped with the kids, the house, and meals.  My brother and sister-in-law have moved furniture, watched the kids, and made us laugh and feel at home.  My buddy Jim Long came from Indianapolis to help unpack boxes and kick-start the organization process.  And Tiffany watched the kids while I napped during all of the sick, organized my kitchen, and kept me company while I was super-crabby and miserable.  T knows when to make me laugh, when to hug me,  and when to buy me chocolate. It can't get much better than that.  Thanks to all of you who have helped make the last few weeks bearable.

Now would be the perfect time to rest and get into a routine, right?  Negatory.  We're leaving for Lexington tomorrow morning for four days.  Trevor has some work to do there, and I have the appointment with the random endocrinologist Monday morning.  All I really want to do is finish putting things on the walls in my house and get fully settled-in, but I suppose that can wait until next week.  All that AND kindergarten registration.  Should be a typical few weeks to come.  :)

I'm back!

Holy cannoli, has it been a long, long, LOOOOOOOONG few weeks.  We closed on the house in Valpo, stayed at my parents' condo in Lexington while I packed up the rest of the house, and moved to Valpo all within less than four weeks.  So it should be no surprise that I have been offline for a little while.  I'm tired.  Really tired.

Overall, things on the Lexington side went well with The Move.  The movers showed up when they were supposed to at all three locations: the condo, T's office, and our house.  It was a crazy-long day for the movers, but luckily it had cooled down to the low-90's after having been 100 degrees just days before.  The guys all worked really hard all day and into the evening.  I was with them most of the day until it was time to get the kids from T's parents and get them ready for bed.  T stayed at our house to supervise the last few hours of the move, and at 6:59 PM that evening, I got a text from him that said, "They might not be able to get everything into one truck."  At that moment, I wished I had some smelling salts because I felt some true Victorian vapors coming on.  The movers ended up taking everything to their headquarters in Louisville to do some rearranging, and somehow, we only ended up needing one truck.  One enormous, tightly packed truck.

All of our earthly possessions were piled on the front lawn.  Classy.

We drove up to Valpo on Thursday: Trevor took Judy in his car and I took the kids.  I think he made it in 5.5 hours, but it took my crew about 8 hours.  We had more potty breaks, obvi.  The kids were great, though, and the trip was pretty smooth.  Lottie didn't seem to be quite herself, but I figured the excitement of the whole process was too much to handle.  I was wrong.

Friday morning, the driver from Lexington, Mike, showed up with the ginormous truck.  I was hoping to see the rest of the crew from Lexington with him, but I was sorely disappointed.  Instead, we had three guys hired from a random day-labor company who were supposed to help Mike unload the truck and move all our stuff.  I have nothing against day-labor workers, but these three guys didn't know the definition of the word labor.  Poor Mike was the only one who knew what to do and how to do it.  We had AJ, a friend of my niece's there to help us, but he couldn't do as much as he wanted to do because the truck just wasn't getting unloaded.  My brother, who has experience in the moving business, texted all morning to see how things were going.  I texted him at noon with the news that the truck was maybe 25% unloaded.  Plus, one of the three stooges left before noon, mumbling something vague about needing insulin, and never came back.  So we were down to Mike and two doofuses, and backup promised by the company was nowhere in sight.  About 45 minutes later, my brother, my knight in shining armor, showed up to show the guys how things were supposed to be done.  He got right in the truck, clapped his hands, and told the guys to get things moving.  With Matt's help, things finally got unloaded.  I guarantee that without Matt, we would have been unloading that truck for days afterwards.  Not a lot was where it was supposed to be, the house was an insane maze of boxes, and everyone was tired and sweaty and peckish.  But it was done.

My parents spent the day tag-teaming between helping at our house and watching the kids at their house.  By Friday morning, it was obvious that Lottie's ennui was more than just The Move: she was sick.  My mom took Lottie to the doctor and had to hold her arms down while the nurse did a throat swab.  Serious gaggage.  Lottie didn't have strep throat, but she did have an ear infection and tonsillitis on the remnants of the tonsils that were removed three years ago.  She had a temperature of 103.5 and fell asleep in the doctor's waiting room, and if you know Lottie, you know that the last time she napped was at the end of the Bush era.

My poor girl mid-yawn.  

With some meds and a lot of rest, she was back on track pretty fast.  The same couldn't be said for me.
That will have to be the next blog post, though.  There's only so much drama one can handle in a single report.  But I'm back and I'm home.  It feels good.