It’s pretty bad when you can’t even remember your password to write a post. Ahem. That’s all I’m going to say about that.

Nick is now 5. Five. Wow. In a way it seems like he’s been 5 for a while, but in other ways, it can still sneak up on you. If he’s five, then Maggie is 7 1/2. Seven and a half is almost 8. I’m not sure I like where this is heading. I am trying to not worry about the teenage years until they are, you know, teenagers. (So my boy turns 5 and I’m talking about teenagers. I know… I know…)

Nick also is now tonsil and adenoid free. He’s breathing better, sleeping better, eating better and this week I can say for sure it was the right call. Actually as soon as the surgeon described the adenoids I knew it was the right call, but there’s that moment when your child wakes up from anesthesia that makes you wonder why you let these monsters touch your sweet baby, let alone carve part of their bodies out. He’s beyond all that, and was actually a pretty easy going patient. I could tell the day he felt better when he started messing with the cats again.

(P.S. for anyone who is having a tonsillectomy – 10 day recovery period. No lie. Ten days.)

And now we sit on the precipice of a new year – I’m a resolution maker. I am. Although I make resolutions just about every day, so it’s not really anything different for me. In late December, I usually write them down in a note on my phone and some years I look at the last year’s note and go with those. Other years, it’s a whole new list.

Some things I’m going to do this year (not resolutions, more goals):

take up knitting again, successfully this time.

launch a new website, with two redesigns on my current sites

pay off my super-duper new commercial embroidery machine (don’t worry, you’ll be hearing plenty about that soon.)

get back to more personal writing and documenting of our lives.

What about you? Do you make resolutions? Goals? Anything new you want to tackle in 2012?

Feeling a little chatty today. Ahem.

I took Nick to Home Depot yesterday to buy a 2×4 to use as a balance beam. I got a chance to see some of the PT he does at school and much of it are things that we could easily be practicing at home, assuming I have them on a to-do list to cross off.

Our 2×4 is nowhere near as nice as the school’s but ours was only $2.30. The school’s might actually be a 3×3, but I’m calling it close enough.

Anyway, Nick was very happy with our new purchase and apparently felt a certain amount of ownership. Maggie came home from school and a melee ensued over the 2×4 piece of lumber on our living room floor.

They took turns. Only because an adult was standing there making sure no one took a 2×4 to the head.

Today, minutes after Maggie got home from school, I came into the living room to see Nick stretched out (the boy is l-o-n-g) on the 2×4.

“Are you lying on that so Maggie can’t get on it?”

“Yes. It’s mine.”

At least he’s honest.

I guarantee you if I had bought two of them, no one would want to use either of them.

Guaranteed.

Friday, in a moment of confidence, I changed our travel itinerary. Originally the plan was to get Maggie from school a little early, wait for Nick to get off the bus and high tail it to Indianapolis or however far we wanted to go before stopping at a hotel, spending the night, and getting up early Saturday morning for the rest of the trip.

Then I decided Nick would miss school, Maggie would only go until lunch (which isn’t until 12:50!) and we would drive the whole way starting at 1pm – assuming that if it got crazy, we could always stop at a hotel and go with the original plan.

As we passed downtown Nashville, Nick asked “Is that Navy Pier?”

“Uh, no. We’ve got 8 hours until Navy Pier.”

“How long until Navy Pier?”

“Uh, 7 hours and 45 minutes.”

“How long until Navy Pier?”

Repeat ad nauseam.

Repeat again, just for good measure.

We pass Louisville after an hour-long traffic backup.

“Is that Navy Pier?”

“No.”

We pass Indianapolis.

“Is that Navy Pier?”

“No.”

“Is the sun setting?”

“Yes. Go to sleep!”

“Wake me when we get to Navy Pier.”

“Sure!” I said. *no way buddy* I thought.

Aaaaaand they never fell asleep. Either of them. For the whole 9 1/2 hour trip.

When we finally drove past Navy Pier, I said “There’s Navy Pier!” as we discussed the way you get on and off the ferris wheel in ski lift fashion.

Five minutes later “Mom?”

“Yes.”

“I think we went past Navy Pier.”

Yeah, at that point it was just funny. Or we were crazy. Or both. We all sang “Celebrate Good Times” as we cruised down Lake Shore Drive.

It was 10:30 at night when we rolled into my parents’ house. And midnight (midnight!!) when we all finally fell asleep.

What time did Nick wake up, you wonder? Well, 6:01am, of course.

We will load up the car in the morning and do the reverse trip, but at least we’ll pass Navy Pier in the first hour.

“Get your shoes on. We’re going to the grocery store as soon as Maggie gets on the bus,” I said to Nick.

“What if she doesn’t get on the bus?” Nick asked.

“Well, then I guess we’ll drop her off. But she will get on the bus so get your shoes on.”

“What if she does get on the bus?”

“Then we’re going to the grocery store.”

“Are we getting a lot or a little?”

“Just dinner for tonight and a few other things.”

“Is that a little?”

“Yes.”

“What are we having for dinner?”

“Tacos. Please put your shoes on.”

“What if I don’t put my shoes on?”

“You need to put your shoes on.”

“But what if I don’t?”

“Shoes, now. Please.”

“What if I do put my shoes on?”

“We will go to the store as soon as the bus comes.” (Putting shoes on should not be this hard or hurt my brain so much.)

It should be noted we went to the store, brought home groceries, went to Whole Foods, Autozone, Hobby Lobby, and Once Upon a Child. We made it home just in time for Maggie to get off the bus (half-day today).

Do you have any idea how many questions I answer every day? Do you? 

I used to be a door slammer. Every once in a while I revert back to my old door-slamming ways, but for the most part, I am a recovered door slammer. Or at least, that’s what I think.

I still close doors with emphasis when I get really frustrated.

A funny story (now, 14 years later, it’s funny) from long ago: When my husband and I had first begun to share a home, and were still working out the kinks of a new relationship and cohabitation, I got really mad during an argument, stomped off and slammed the bedroom door.

Well, I tried to slam the bedroom door. It got stuck on a rug that was nearby and wouldn’t slam. In my growing frustration, I repeatedly tried to slam the door getting the rug further jammed under the door. After about four minutes of trying to slam the door, I huffed and walked into another bedroom and slammed that door.

Recently my children have started slamming doors. They slam them in each other’s faces when they get angry with each other. They slam them to prove that their room is their room. They slam them to prove that they can. And sometimes they just shut them loudly and it sounds like a slam.

It makes me crazy.

I.Can’t.Stand.It.

We’ve talked about door slamming. We’ve talked about what it feels like to have a door slammed in your face. We’ve talked about how much it would hurt to have a finger slammed in a door. We’ve talked about how loud it is and how much it bothers mommy. We’ve talked and talked and talked.

And if you come to visit our house right now, there is a certain seven-year-old who no longer has a door to her bedroom.

Maggie has had birthday money burning a hole in her pocket for over a month now. (In previous years, we deposited birthday money straight into her college fund, but this year she caught on.) Yesterday she decided she wanted to buy a Build-A-Bear for herself to go with the one I brought home for her from a conference I went to last year.

I was lucky enough to hear a talk given by Build-A-Bear creator Maxine Clark who has a heart of gold. (I will admit here that I had always refused to even take the kids into B-A-B because I assumed the marketing was a ploy to get kids to want and buy and “mom, can I have this?” Which, to be honest, they do a great job of marketing, but there actually is more to it.)

This morning when Maggie offered to buy her brother a bear also, I said “Let’s go!” and away we went.

Both of the kids were enchanted with choosing their own bear, watching them get stuffed, wishing on the heart and putting it in, watching them be stitched up into a real “live” bear, giving them an air bath, and of course, picking out some clothes.

Nick bathed his bear about 7 times while Maggie shopped for accessories.

 May I introduce the newest member of our clan – Sparkle (purple) and Magilda who has been with us for almost two years now.

Nick was determined before we left that he was going to get a pink bear. I thought I’d be able to talk him into a brown bear with pink clothes in case he changed his mind later about the pink.

But this is how he rolls. A pink bear with a Cars T-shirt, black jeans, black loafers, and yellow hair bows. Oh, and her name is Chloe. (Please to notice his own green striped shirt and plaid pants.)

But he loves her. And so do I.

Maggie got a handful of accessories including this:

because every bear needs a snorkeling suit.

I *may* be using the new bears as a ploy to get Nick to sleep all night by himself which he totally does when I am not home. When I am home, he wakes up and wants me to sleep with him.

*Note – when I sleep in his bed upstairs I have a 100% chance of being able to sleep later than if I sleep in my own bed which *could* have something to do with how long this has gone on. Ahem.

“Is she alive? Will she move?” he asked.

Maggie jumped right in with the perfect answer. “She is alive. She may not move in front of you, but the love you give her makes her alive.”

The whole family headed out for the fireworks show at our local park last night. I am the one who secretly hopes it will rain so we can cancel the whole thing. But, because I know that opinion will get me banned as a warm-blooded American, I tend to keep it to myself.

My friend Shab gave me some quick settings to put my camera on (she recommended Mishi’s post, which I will now admit I should have read before going to shoot.) I took the quick settings and began shooting.

I got a few decent shots before Nick decided that he does not like fireworks.

At. All.

I felt like I was just kind of getting the timing down before we packed up and watched the rest as we walked back to our car. The exposure is off, but not bad for a beginner.

So good news: Nick is my “get out of fireworks free card.”

Bad news: I want to try to shoot some again to see what I can get.

Yesterday was one of those days. It started out decent enough. We slept in, ate breakfast and got dressed without any major battles. Oh, I forgot, there was one battle. My son flicked about 35 little beads off his bead instead of putting them in the bucket like he was supposed to. When it came time to clean them up, he insisted I help him.

Which I did not.

I saw him flick the first one and mentioned that he would be cleaning up any beads that fell on the ground.

And he continued.

So, I didn’t feel too bad when he cried for my help in cleaning them up.

“Who put the beads on the ground?”

“Me.”

“Who will have to pick them up?”

“Me.”

“Correct.”

First he shoved them all under the bed. When I came up to look, I pointed them out to him and he crumbled into tears again.

As a show of support, I moved them from way under the bed into a pile of sorts next to the bed. And then I walked away.

After a half hour battle of wills, he cleaned them up.

The next part of the day was right out of a movie. We went for an oil change and I brought a book to read. What? you ask. Why yes, I brought a book and my children each had an activity and we sat like civilized people in a crowded waiting room and all was right in the world. I actually read a little.

We did a little consignment shopping. (Got some great deals!)

Then we came home and the bottom fell out.

We have had a 10-day struggle going on concerning Maggie’s room and the cleanliness of it, or rather the lack of cleanliness.

I had a post almost ready to publish of my superior mothering abilities (insert tongue in cheek) of how I was going to let her figure out for herself that if things get broken and trashed and lost it’s because they are littered all over the floor. I was prepared to let her learn the lesson at age 7 instead of when she was off in her first apartment or whatever. (I like to torture myself by projecting 12 years into the future.)

Add in the fact that I just bought Maggie a whole freaking new wardrobe and realized she was walking all over the clothes she has worn in the last week, I started to fester a bit.

I would love to have a few new (to us) bags of clothes.  Hell, my pajamas don’t even match anymore.

My husband and I have differing opinions on the room cleaning issue. I kept hearing his disgust over my permissibility and I lost the battle going on in my own head.

I gave her an hour to clean her room up.

I checked back when she said she was ready.

And I found a clean-enough room that met my lax inspection. I brought the vacuum in to do away with the beads that were littering her floor. (What idiot bought these children all these beads? Oh, I did? Hpmf.)

And then the wheels fell off. (Not the vacuum wheels. The mothering wheels.)

I lifted the bedskirt to find everything that had previously been on the floor shoved under the bed.

It was not pretty. I was not pretty.

I gathered a laundry basket and started emptying the room. After the second (rather large) laundry basket and lots  and lots of 7-year-old tears, the room was considerably, ahem, cleaner.

She will get to earn things back for each day that her room stays clean. And the beads are going away until a time when they don’t make me twitch, if such a time ever exists.

She was beside herself with grief at her losses, but quickly explained to her dad when he got home what had happened and how she would earn things back. She bounced back much more quickly than I did.

I’m still not sure what to do about the room situation. I have my own messy room (my office) and don’t respond well to criticism of its cleanliness. It’s my room. Close the door. Don’t go in there.

So why shouldn’t my 7-year-old have the same luxury?

It’s the last day of school! Kind of. Nick’s last day, anyway. And Maggie only has a half-day tomorrow, so no lunch to pack.

I approach this summer with excitement and a little apprehension. I really do well with a few hours of being alone. I’m one of those people who could stay at home by myself for three days and not care. I’d be happy, in fact. Not all the time, but often enough to consider myself a loner.

Of course, I love my children and my husband. I love them dearly. Desperately.

And then I like to take a break from them to think, and write, and create.

I’m trying to cut myself some slack and cull my to-do list to only the absolute must-do stuff. When I have a manageable to-do list, I’m a little more relaxed and able to have more fun.

That’s one of my goals for the summer – to kick back and really have fun. To not take myself so seriously. Loosen up. R-E-L-A-X.

Another goal is to launch an Etsy shop. So, there’s a little give and take that will have to go on, but I can’t go the whole summer without creating.

We have some OT and PT skills to work on with Nick, which can almost all be introduced in the form of “play.” I just have to be on the ball enough to have them ready to introduce and remember to do them.

I’m determined to schedule a night out every week where I get to visit with friends, eat food someone else has prepared, or even go to the Y for an evening workout.

The whole time, I will be making a list of projects to tackle after the kids are back in school. (I *may* even start a list for 15 months from now when they are both in school full-time. That’s just how I operate.) So we have 81 days to soak up all summer has to offer. At this moment it’s a live performance waiting for me in the basement.

So many people have asked how Nick is doing. I haven’t written anything here as we were waiting for a few meetings and appointments to take place.

I am happy to say Nick is doing pretty fabulous. The EEG showed no sign of current or past seizures and since the day they wired him up, he’s kind of been a different kid. His teachers and I have half-joked that it scared whatever was going on out of him.

We had his IEP meeting for the end of the year and again, he’s doing fabulous. They are pleased with his progress. I am pleased with his progress and we are all hopeful that with one more year to go, he will really be ready for kindergarten in 2012. They called him “a success story.” *sniff*

We had our “final” meeting with his neurologist this week. Again, since there isn’t anything outwardly apparent right now, and the tests were all negative, we are going on the assumption that all is well. He did reiterate that he swears what he saw on our first appointment were absence seizures. They can come and go and they can worsen over time. But for now, we have no proof of seizures, so hoping we don’t see anything wonky in the future, he sent us off with his blessing.

At home we have noticed huge leaps in a lot of areas. People Nick would have avoided talking to, are now getting an earful. Who knew that once he began to talk he would be a little on the bossy side? (cough, cough, he does live with Maggie and me. We might have led him down the path to bossiness.)

Nick used to be deathly afraid of dogs. Screaming bloody murder afraid. Now he goes into our neighbor’s gated yard and plays with their two fairly large dogs.

We still have multiple rounds of “who’s on first” every hour day, but even those have a little more logic involved than they used to.

So yeah, we’re in a good place. There’s that part of me who doesn’t want to say it out loud for fear of jinxing ourselves, but right now, today, everything is good.