Discussions with Jack

While living with two two year olds certainly has its challenges, parenting school-aged children is no walk in the park either. Jack has all the argumentative skills of a campaigning politician. This was what went down in the kitchen this evening:

Matt: "Ok, you guys are no longer allowed to use the sink sprayer. You're getting water everywhere. You don't know how to use it properly."

Jack: "Actually, I do know how to use it and what it's for. It's for washing dishes."

Matt: " Just because you know how something works doesn't mean you are able to use something the right way. For instance, you know how a car works but you aren't ready or able to drive one yet. There are things you don't know about the sprayer.

(And here Matt starts making things up)

We as adults think of things you don't. You don't know about the drain capacity, the water pressure in the hose, what sort of valve is in the sprayer..."

Jack (completely serious): "Well, it's probably a butterfly valve."

Matt started laughing because he wasn't expecting Jack to start naming correct valve terminology (which we later confirmed on Google). So Matt had to act like he was laughing over how absurd Jack's suggestion was: "A butterfly valve? No, no, no..."

But he was thinking "What the hell's a butterfly valve?"

In the end, it was a draw.

Of Illnesses and Genetics

One Sick Mother

I'm on the recovering end of a cold this week. The cold itself wasn't too terribly awful, just the usual sore throat, sneezing, coughing, chills, blah, blah, blah. But I happened to be experiencing women's difficulties at the same time so the fatigue was incredible. My body just basically threw in the towel - "What, you expect us to fight off a virus while losing precious iron? Forget it, we're shutting down."

Exercise?   No.
Personal appearance?   Shoddy at best.
Level of caring?    Negative.

I just didn't want to move. I wanted to lie on the couch all day, reading historical novels and watching House, until it was time to fall into a Nyquil-induced slumber. And really, that's one of the worst things about being a mom - no one's there to take care of you because it's your job to take care of everyone else. It's right up there with with pushing big-headed children out of your delicate lady bits and catching someone else's vomit in your own hands while soothing them with "It's ok, it's alright..."

Matt tried to help, letting me sleep in as late as I wanted and bringing home pizzas for dinner and such but someone had to go to work so I could continue to live in the way to which I've become accustomed. Every morning I would give the same speech:

"Mommy is sick and she doesn't feel good. Please be good and watch out for the little kids, ok?"

They would nod solemnly and then go about their usual business of poking each other and getting into the nail polish.

Exhibit A:

We've watch countless movies this week, including an introduction into the wonder that is The Neverending Story." You know you're firmly entrenched in adulthood by the way you react to Disney movies:
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Watching The Little Mermaid as a child:  "Why is her dad so mean? She's 16 for crying out loud! She's practically an adult and can make her own choices?

Watching The Little Mermaid as an adult: "Why is she so selfish and disobedient? Her dad is only trying to keep her from making bad decisions. She's 16 for crying out loud! She's practically a baby!

Also, Ursula calls Ariel a little tramp, a line that went completely over my head as a kid.

My saving grace was that I have no school this week. I'm particularly thankful that my nutrition class is over. It was slightly uncomfortable to write scathing remarks on the evils of sugar while eating a Cadbury egg.

Question: How bad is sugar?
Answer: On the spectrum of evil, it falls somewhere between the restrooms at Walmart and Hitler.

Also, I ended the class with an A. I may celebrate with some ice cream. In your face, Nutrition Professor!

These Are Not My Children

All parents have those moments of "Who are you?" when it comes to their children and I am no exception. Kate loves to clean and cook and I thank my lucky stars everyday for that. She makes the salads, she cleans the toilets, she vacuums. Matt and I look forward to the day when she will be making all the meals (and so is she). The other day I told the kids to go clean their rooms and she came back with a list she had made:

Floor, dressers, vacuum, beds, shelf, closet, and check up.

At least I'm pretty sure she meant shelf. Although self is good to keep clean as well. She told me she wrote "Check up" at the bottom so she would be sure to check her work at the end. She then bounded happily back to her room to clean and check her list. 

I just don't know who she is sometimes.

Likewise, how Jack emerged from my loins is also a mystery. He's watching this high school biology DVD course I bought and although I find it pretty dry, he really likes it. Like it's a treat for him to be able to watch it. While going through the aquatic animals the other night, he called me over for every single animal's organ layout. He would excitedly point out the air bladder and intestines and such. Here he is, wearing a train conductor hat, pointing out the body parts to a starfish:

And then last week I was reading our Middle Ages history book and read a passage on Galileo. The story goes that he went to the top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa and dropped two objects with different weights. I read "One weight was heavier than the other, and according to old theories about the way the universe worked, this heavier weight should have landed first."

It was here that Jack looked up from his Legos and said "No, that's not right. They would land at the same time and let me tell you why." He then launched into a passionate tirade about the force of gravity being the same and something about physics. At one point he said "You see, it all comes back to E=mc2."

I just don't know about my kids sometimes. I really don't.

The Days Are Just Filled...

On Wednesday we had Tali's 6 month follow up cardiology appointment. She had another echo and ekg and our sweet cardiologist said everything looked good but that Tali had to go home with a Halter monitor, which straps on her chest and captures her rhythm for 24 hours, just to make sure the surgery didn't cause any arrhythmias and such.

She did great through the echo and the technicians kept commenting on it but I'm pretty sure relaxing on a pillowed table watching Mickey Mouse and getting slathered with warm gel sure beats whatever she got in China. By the time they started sticking on the tabs for the EKG, she had had enough. She kept saying "No" forcefully in her sweet little tinny voice.

A couple weeks ago Jack asked me to email our cardiologist to ask her if she could please see if there was a pediatric heart surgeon available to talk with Jack. Have I mentioned how much I love our doctor? She told Jack that there was a heart surgeon whose case was canceled that morning and he was waiting for us. How awesome is that? We trooped across the street to the main hospital and made our way to the doctors' building.

The surgeon was super sweet and kind, taking lots of time to answer Jack's questions. Apparently our cardiologist told the surgeon about Jack's surgical tools and he asked to see them. Jack pulled them out of the diaper bag and spread them on his desk. He went through each one, showing Jack how to use them. He and Jack discussed oxygen distribution to the various organs and how much education is involved in becoming a surgeon. My favorite part was when he went through the questions and got to "What's your favorite part about your job?" and he got this look of contentment on his face and stated "When the patient wakes up after surgery and they get to go home with their families and live their life." That is good stuff.

He made Jack promise to come back to visit every year and keep him informed of how he was doing in his quest to become a surgeon. This guy is one of the good ones.

The surgeon was really smiley, I just didn't capture it.

We ate lunch at the hospital's Chik-Fil-A (Jack about had a coronary about a fast food place in a hospital) but we made it better by sharing fries and nuggets and drinking water. Looking forward to meeting him every year at Tali's appointment!

Later that day we had small group at our house. As soon as people were filtering in, a friend in the group pointed out the fact that Noah had no underwear on and was walking around with...evidence of a certain body function hanging from his behind. We rushed to get him cleaned up. I'm in the bathroom, desperately cleaning water and toilet paper off the floor and wiping down the toilet seat with Lysol (Noah tries to get to the toilet and it gets a little sloppy) while I am calling out a welcoming greeting to people coming in. Oh, and the septic was still sluggish from all the rain we've had so it was hard to hide the evidence.

Later in the evening we noticed Tali had wiggled out of her diaper and was strolling around the group members cool and free. We are just classy like that. I began the day shaking hands with a heart surgeon and ended it chasing toddlers around with baby wipes. Yes indeed.

Fancy Feast

On Saturday we had friends over for dinner. The mom is a hospitalist (physician) where I work and I've had a playdate with her and her little one. Saturday was the first time we met her husband. They stepped out of their car and I noted with dread that he was nicely turned out in a crisp sport coat. I slowly looked down at myself - 'Oh please don't say that I...yup. I'm still wearing my yoga pants and t-shirt that I had put on that morning with the intent of cleaning and making dinner all day. Are they sufficiently flour-encrusted from the bread I made? Sure are!'

No matter. They were wonderful. It's always a bit nerve-wracking inviting new friends over for dinner. You never know how comfortable it will be. Will Matt and I be making imploring eyes at one another as the evening drags on close to midnight? Will they recite a detailed monologue about their toenail fungus while you are trying to enjoy your pudding? Will they drone on and on about something or other while you drop weighty hints about the kids bedtime - "Oh look at the time! We all have bobsled practice in the morning, better hit the hay...Oh, still talking huh? Alright then. I'll check back in an hour"

This was quite comfortable. Jack was really excited to meet the dad - he's a cardiologist. Jack greeted him at the door in his heart shirt and doctor coat, surgical tools in his pocket and his heart model in his hand. They hit it off. The dad was impressed by Jack's passion, excitedly pointing out things on Jack's shrine to the heart in the homeschool room. Exhibit A - Jack's desk and wall:

Honestly, it's just a teensy bit creepy. You know that scene in A Beautiful Mind where the woman opens the shed and all those mathematical papers are plastered on the walls and she stares in horrified dread? It feels a bit like that. It's all he wants to draw and all he wants to write about. Let's get real for a moment - how much excitement can you truly muster when told about the aorta multiple times a day everyday? Yes, it's amazing. We know.

But this guy and Jack are kindred spirits. He happily read Jack's illustrated book on the heart (complete with Fast Facts on every page). He quizzed Jack on topics such as "How does a heart attack occur?" which Jack answered with gusto. I was pleasantly surprised by Jack's social graces when the cardiologist pulled out his phone to show Jack a video on heart bypass surgery. We've seen the video several times already but Jack didn't say anything and let the good man point out the arteries and such without cutting him off with a curt "I know."

I'm not showing his face as I don't know if he's ready to handle the inevitable fame that will come with being shown on my blog. Some people can't handle becoming an instant celebrity.

All through dinner, the guy kept complimenting my cooking:

"You made this bread? How did you do that? It's amazing."

"Your mom is a wonderful cook, you know?" (Jack shrugs "I guess.")

"You made these cookies too? You should open a bakery!"

We are definitely having this guy over again for dinner. They might have me beat in IQ and income but I can follow recipes like a champ. They brought with them two containers of Haagen-Daz ice cream and a bottle of wine. 

We set out the ice cream with the cookies and the kids immediately began pouring cheap chocolate sauce and sprinkles on it. 

NOOOOO! Don't put that crap on there - this is Haagen-Daz! I know that name means nothing to you as we've never ever bought such expensive ice cream but this isn't cheap Wal-cream. This is special. Savor it.

Nope, they just swirled the sauce and sprinkles and the ice cream together to make it soupy. It's painfully obvious that we're used to covering up the taste of poverty.

Later that evening, Matt opened the wine. A few things I noticed: 

It's not in a box. There are no pictures of animals on the label, no "Uncle Billy Bob's Mississippi Moonshine." The top didn't twist off. I can't pronounce the type of wine it is. It all came to a head when Matt brought out the corkscrew. He shows me the cork and states "Is that a real cork?" We stared at it, slightly dumbfounded. Not a plastic cork. A real one. 

It dawned on me - the sports coat, the good wine, the Haagen-Daz. We have fancy friends!

(Now before you get all insulted that I'm implying you're basically an uncultured swine, be rest assured I'm not talking about you. The rest of my friends? Absolutely. An uncouth group if ever I've seen one.

But you...you are a shining beacon of dignity and sophistication.)

So that was our Saturday evening. Next time we'll probably bump it up a notch (pants that button and non-Crocs on our feet) for our fancy friends.