It's a gloriously sunshiney day outside. I can hear a bird chirping outside our window. We all slept in this morning and consumed a leisurely, fancy breakfast of eggs benedict. I've been on a long run and Owen and I are making rapid progress on a puzzle of the Eiffel Tower.
If I had had four weeks to look forward to this day I think my expectations would have been met and exceeded. But, of course, we didn't have any idea even 48 hours ago that we would all be home together on a Sunday. Our country, state, and local community's guidelines for self quarantine have led to this feeling of chaotic mind-spinning, tempered by very little to actually DO.
Yesterday I spent several hours at church recording music for our weekend service, delivered online. Our plan is to meet again first thing this next week to get as much advanced service work recorded in case they close the church building to everyone (currently staff are allowed inside). It was so odd. The expectation is that you are "supposed to be worshipping" but in reality it feels exactly like a recording session and for goodness sake don't make a mistake and how should I make my face look?? And then, in the midst of all that mental gymnastics you remember why you are actually doing all of this. Deep breath.
Roy is restless. He doesn't sit still very well unless he's earned it, and there haven't been many long drives and concerts in Buffalo and Syracuse to merit a nap or a long book. So he flits from chore to chore, sitting down from time to time to pound out arrangements on Finale for a long-term recital project. He may have it done a whole lot sooner than expected.
The boys are largely content. Owen is enjoying having two adults in the house simultaneously, which doubles his chances for nabbing one of us for an activity. James never wants to leave the house anyway, and Mommy and Daddy seem to be a lot more lenient about movie nights these days. Felix doesn't know anything is amiss, except he asks occasionally now to "wah' HANs" (Wash hands.)
I don't have anything especially profound to add to this brief summary, except to say that it would feel odd not to have in writing some record of how we are doing in this unprecedented season. And with nothing to do, perhaps more boring blogs are in my future.
Sunday, March 15, 2020
Friday, March 6, 2020
Owen at the Allergist
Upon entering the hospital:
"Will I have to get a shot?"
"...not exactly."
"OK."
Upon entering the waiting room, to the receptionist:
"Will I have to get a shot? Do you have a prize box?"
Upon getting vitals taken:
"Can Cute <stuffed panda> get weighed with me? I am getting very tall."
Upon getting blood pressure taken:
"This is my favorite part!"
Upon the entrance of the doctor:
"Do you have any kids? Do I have to get a shot? Do I get to eat any nuts today?"
"Uh, no to all of the above. Now, I see that we incorporated peanuts into his diet a year ago--how is that going?"
"I'M ON A DIET?!? THAT'S WHAT YOU DO WHEN YOU WANT TO LOSE WEIGHT!!"
Me, embarrassed, "...which you learned from Garfield comics and not from your mother."
"Uh, no to all of the above. Now, I see that we incorporated peanuts into his diet a year ago--how is that going?"
"I'M ON A DIET?!? THAT'S WHAT YOU DO WHEN YOU WANT TO LOSE WEIGHT!!"
Me, embarrassed, "...which you learned from Garfield comics and not from your mother."
Upon the entrance of the skin-prick technician:
"Is this a shot? Why are you marking my arms? Hey, those are purple dots like the Ravens. Ouch--are you sure this isn't a shot? Oh, wait, I can't really feel anything."
Upon the re-entrance of the doctor:
"Are we all done now? I didn't even have to get a shot!"
Upon the initial entrance of the blood-draw technician:
"Hey, why are you talking about blood? Are you going to give me a shot? What's a blood draw? Is that like a shot? Is there a needle??? Aaaa-AAAAAHAHHHH!!!"
<Here we pause for thirty minutes of panic, noisy hyperventilating, and outright bribery whilst awaiting the return of the blood-draw technician.>
Upon the return of the blood-draw technician:
"I'm watching George. George is funny. Ha-ha. Hey, what did you just do? Why is there a needle in my arm? What is that red stuff? What's in those two containers? Is that my blood? Can I hold those? Wow. That's so cool. Hey, can I take these home with me?"
Epilogue: What Owen doesn't realize, among other things, is that he participated in an experimental study today to hopefully help develop allergy testing only requiring a mouth swab. For his participation, which included one of the two vials of blood, and sucking on a cotton swab, we were paid $40, which we agreed should go to him. Or at least most of it...let's not overlook Mom's cut for pain and suffering.
Wednesday, February 26, 2020
Ironies
It's ironic that...
...the two year old who's made it a fun, repeated occurrence to suck sopping toilet water out of a towel is the only member of the family who isn't sick right now.
...I just replaced my Magic Kindle and then bought real (used) books from Barnes and Noble that are currently occupying my nightstand.
...the one day you haven't warmed up on piano is the day your pastor announces that "we're all going to take five minutes and just sit and listen to the wonderful music."
...the day you give Facebook up for Lent is the same day your former professor and boss FB-messages you asking for advice.
...your husband invests in refurbishing his nice black dress shoes, a new pair of black sneakers, and a pair of Goodwill black dress shoes (whilst he waits for the refurbishing) and still has no black shoes appropriate to wear to his weekend concerts.
...Felix's curious "Big George" should choose to wander off in exactly the place he is always getting into trouble on television (the science museum).
...when you give up sugar in January it's all you want to eat, but when you're allowed to have it in February you're like, "meh, how 'bout some nachos?"
...in theory February break should mean lots of extra practice time for your students, but they all inevitably show up to their lessons especially clueless.
...it was a lot harder to come up with ironic things than I anticipated when I sat down to write this.
...the two year old who's made it a fun, repeated occurrence to suck sopping toilet water out of a towel is the only member of the family who isn't sick right now.
...I just replaced my Magic Kindle and then bought real (used) books from Barnes and Noble that are currently occupying my nightstand.
...the one day you haven't warmed up on piano is the day your pastor announces that "we're all going to take five minutes and just sit and listen to the wonderful music."
...the day you give Facebook up for Lent is the same day your former professor and boss FB-messages you asking for advice.
...your husband invests in refurbishing his nice black dress shoes, a new pair of black sneakers, and a pair of Goodwill black dress shoes (whilst he waits for the refurbishing) and still has no black shoes appropriate to wear to his weekend concerts.
...Felix's curious "Big George" should choose to wander off in exactly the place he is always getting into trouble on television (the science museum).
...when you give up sugar in January it's all you want to eat, but when you're allowed to have it in February you're like, "meh, how 'bout some nachos?"
...in theory February break should mean lots of extra practice time for your students, but they all inevitably show up to their lessons especially clueless.
...it was a lot harder to come up with ironic things than I anticipated when I sat down to write this.
Monday, February 17, 2020
Eulogy to a Kindle
On Saturday my Magic Kindle fell off my nightstand again. Annoyed, I leaned over and picked it up, but the power button did nothing. I pushed the button repeatedly to no avail. I plugged it in, I powered it off, I reset it, I factory-reset it. I googled desperately for help. Nothing.
My faithful friend for over three years, the Magic Kindle was a semi-impulsive purchase one early January tied to a New Year resolution to read more. Roy was a little skeptical, but, wanting to support me, let me buy the new toy that would give me that initial motivation. (Kind of like buying a Fitbit makes working out everyday attainable and a new blender guarantees you'll drink a green smoothie each morning.) I picked up a used Kindle on Craigslist, case and charger included, for $40. Roy even drove out and made the transaction for me. (What a guy.) What I didn't realize was that fate had smiled upon us and granted me a Kindle with magical powers.
My Magic Kindle was of an older vintage. It had no backlight for nighttime reading, it was peskily slow when it came to WiFi, and the touch capabilities of the screen were snail-esque. However, this unique set of features enabled me to successfully download new library loans and then quickly shut off the WiFi before it returned any of the overdue loans. By the time of its demise my Magic Kindle had dozens of bestselling, hot-ticket books still in its memory banks. I never had to worry about not finishing a book in time, or checking out too many at once. Roy could cast his favorite books over to the Magic Kindle and they'd be there for as long as it took to get to them.
Anyone who's watched that one episode of Friends with Joey, Chandler, and a certain television station will understand. I knew exactly how good I had it...
The Magic Kindle gave me every chance to read, and read well. I could hold a cranky baby and still read single-handedly. I could slip it into my purse and snatch a chapter or two while waiting for a meeting. We went to Orlando and Paris together. I won my book club's annual page-reading contest in 2019 thanks to the Magic Kindle.
The Magic Kindle even won over the skeptic. The one who swore he'd never read literature off a screen picked up his own (sadly, it's a Muggle) and uses it in earnest. Some of our favorite evenings are spent side by side in bed with the mattress warmer, wine, and good books.
So, rest in peace Magic Kindle. I'm sorry you were knocked off resting places by little boys and, occasionally, by yours truly. You survived many concussions with courage and dignity. I'll miss your superpowers. I'll miss the Paw Patrol stickers on your case from James' gymnastics classes. I have purchased your replacement--a new-to-me Kindle that has its own backlight and is much faster in all areas and comes in a very trendy marbled case, but it can't replace the esteemed place you hold in my heart.
My faithful friend for over three years, the Magic Kindle was a semi-impulsive purchase one early January tied to a New Year resolution to read more. Roy was a little skeptical, but, wanting to support me, let me buy the new toy that would give me that initial motivation. (Kind of like buying a Fitbit makes working out everyday attainable and a new blender guarantees you'll drink a green smoothie each morning.) I picked up a used Kindle on Craigslist, case and charger included, for $40. Roy even drove out and made the transaction for me. (What a guy.) What I didn't realize was that fate had smiled upon us and granted me a Kindle with magical powers.
My Magic Kindle was of an older vintage. It had no backlight for nighttime reading, it was peskily slow when it came to WiFi, and the touch capabilities of the screen were snail-esque. However, this unique set of features enabled me to successfully download new library loans and then quickly shut off the WiFi before it returned any of the overdue loans. By the time of its demise my Magic Kindle had dozens of bestselling, hot-ticket books still in its memory banks. I never had to worry about not finishing a book in time, or checking out too many at once. Roy could cast his favorite books over to the Magic Kindle and they'd be there for as long as it took to get to them.
Anyone who's watched that one episode of Friends with Joey, Chandler, and a certain television station will understand. I knew exactly how good I had it...
The Magic Kindle gave me every chance to read, and read well. I could hold a cranky baby and still read single-handedly. I could slip it into my purse and snatch a chapter or two while waiting for a meeting. We went to Orlando and Paris together. I won my book club's annual page-reading contest in 2019 thanks to the Magic Kindle.
The Magic Kindle even won over the skeptic. The one who swore he'd never read literature off a screen picked up his own (sadly, it's a Muggle) and uses it in earnest. Some of our favorite evenings are spent side by side in bed with the mattress warmer, wine, and good books.
So, rest in peace Magic Kindle. I'm sorry you were knocked off resting places by little boys and, occasionally, by yours truly. You survived many concussions with courage and dignity. I'll miss your superpowers. I'll miss the Paw Patrol stickers on your case from James' gymnastics classes. I have purchased your replacement--a new-to-me Kindle that has its own backlight and is much faster in all areas and comes in a very trendy marbled case, but it can't replace the esteemed place you hold in my heart.
Thursday, February 13, 2020
First Impressions II
The ultrasound technician made absentminded chit chat with us as she had me lay back on the table. I pulled up my shirt as she tucked paper around it. "We'll take a look at all the measurements and check the heart development. Did you bring your flash drive? We can download some images and videos for you to have." She squirted the gel over my abdomen. "Now, are we wanting to find out gender today?"
We nodded. Two firstborns don't do well with surprises when advance information is readily available. I remembered with James how long it took to do this scan. He was stubborn and didn't want to move around for certain measurements. It took the better part of ten minutes to figure out that he was, in fact, going to be a James. As nervous and excited as I was to find out about this new wee one, I settled myself in for a leisurely tour of limbs and organs.
The tech warmed up the wand and placed it in the center of my stomach. The screen lit up with that familiar black and white grainy palette and we all blinked. Was it really going to be that easy?
Immediately, and without hesitation, we all said together, "Well. It's a boy!"
...
I settled gratefully onto our couch. The blur of house hunting, house purchasing, house de-catting, and house unpacking had me plumb tuckered out. Roy kissed me as he headed out the door to an orchestra rehearsal. James was napping upstairs--it was time for a precious hour to rest. Two minutes later my water broke and soaked the sofa. Once I had recovered from the shock and adrenaline of the moment, the emerging irony made me chuckle and shake my head all at once. The boy who proudly splayed his manhood for us at 20 weeks in utero had also managed to ruin his mother's furniture before birth. What were we in for?
Today I was invited to climb into an oversized chair that this same boy had turned into a "club." He gleefully gave me the grand tour of his carefully-arranged blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals before offering me any spot I desired. As I snuggled him and listened to his happy, nonstop chatter I remembered that I was in the exact same spot of the house as that ruined couch. Immeasurably grateful for the adventure and LIFE Owen Nicholas has given us, from day one.
We nodded. Two firstborns don't do well with surprises when advance information is readily available. I remembered with James how long it took to do this scan. He was stubborn and didn't want to move around for certain measurements. It took the better part of ten minutes to figure out that he was, in fact, going to be a James. As nervous and excited as I was to find out about this new wee one, I settled myself in for a leisurely tour of limbs and organs.
The tech warmed up the wand and placed it in the center of my stomach. The screen lit up with that familiar black and white grainy palette and we all blinked. Was it really going to be that easy?
Immediately, and without hesitation, we all said together, "Well. It's a boy!"
...
I settled gratefully onto our couch. The blur of house hunting, house purchasing, house de-catting, and house unpacking had me plumb tuckered out. Roy kissed me as he headed out the door to an orchestra rehearsal. James was napping upstairs--it was time for a precious hour to rest. Two minutes later my water broke and soaked the sofa. Once I had recovered from the shock and adrenaline of the moment, the emerging irony made me chuckle and shake my head all at once. The boy who proudly splayed his manhood for us at 20 weeks in utero had also managed to ruin his mother's furniture before birth. What were we in for?
Today I was invited to climb into an oversized chair that this same boy had turned into a "club." He gleefully gave me the grand tour of his carefully-arranged blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals before offering me any spot I desired. As I snuggled him and listened to his happy, nonstop chatter I remembered that I was in the exact same spot of the house as that ruined couch. Immeasurably grateful for the adventure and LIFE Owen Nicholas has given us, from day one.
Tuesday, February 11, 2020
First impressions I
She sat to my left. We were practically strangers, surrounded by mutual friends. The waitress brought us waters with lemon. She asked for an bowl of lemon wedges and I shot her an occasional sideways glance as she consumed them one at a time with great relish. A freshman at college, I was wide-eyed, excited, desperate for relationships. Grabbing a 10PM dinner at the local Dennys with a bunch of music majors seemed like the type of impulsive collegiate decision I was now free to make.
I looked around long table, wishing there was someone near me that I actually knew and could chat with. The girl consuming lemons next to me started telling me about her summer vacation. The lemons must have whetted her whistle, because once she got going there was no getting a word in edgewise. Italy sounded wonderful, and what a cool way to get there--serving with the Salvation Army for a few weeks. Still, it was an unrelenting blow-by-blow of the sights, the sounds, the tastes, and I'm afraid I was distracted enough by everything else going on around me that I wasn't very receptive. I leaned over to the person on my right and whispered, "Boy, she sure talks a lot!"
The summary trailed off... I glanced to my left again and Lemon Girl had absolutely heard my "hushed" whisper. Ashamed, I apologized profusely for my rudeness. She was gracious to accept, but the rest of the evening passed awkwardly, damaged by my stupidity.
Four years later she affixed my veil, fluffed my dress, carried my bouquet, and wept bittersweet tears on my wedding day. Five years after that I did the same for her. Best friends come in the most unexpected ways.
I looked around long table, wishing there was someone near me that I actually knew and could chat with. The girl consuming lemons next to me started telling me about her summer vacation. The lemons must have whetted her whistle, because once she got going there was no getting a word in edgewise. Italy sounded wonderful, and what a cool way to get there--serving with the Salvation Army for a few weeks. Still, it was an unrelenting blow-by-blow of the sights, the sounds, the tastes, and I'm afraid I was distracted enough by everything else going on around me that I wasn't very receptive. I leaned over to the person on my right and whispered, "Boy, she sure talks a lot!"
The summary trailed off... I glanced to my left again and Lemon Girl had absolutely heard my "hushed" whisper. Ashamed, I apologized profusely for my rudeness. She was gracious to accept, but the rest of the evening passed awkwardly, damaged by my stupidity.
Four years later she affixed my veil, fluffed my dress, carried my bouquet, and wept bittersweet tears on my wedding day. Five years after that I did the same for her. Best friends come in the most unexpected ways.
Thursday, November 21, 2019
A bad-happy-birthday
t was a Very. Bad. Day. It all started with us singing “Happy Birthday” to James, who turned 8 years old today. There were hugs and kisses and smiles all around. Except for Owen. James opened his cards and presents and got to choose a special breakfast of birthday pancakes. Owen didn’t get any presents or cards, and his pancakes weren’t as tasty because he got served second. He locked himself in the bathroom and declared, “Nobody loves me. You all hate me. I am never eating again."
We caught Owen trying to steal James’ new colored pencils, begging for sheets of paper from his new sketch pad, and lamenting his lack of an Eagles wallet to keep dollar bills in. “I hate this day. This is the worst day ever.”
And it only got worse. Then there were checkups today for both James and Owen. Even though James’ appointment was first, Owen kept up a steady stream of whiny commentary. By the time she was finished with James the doctor turned patiently to Owen and remarked, “Well, we know there’s nothing wrong with his language development.”
Then we came home and had Chicken Charlie pizza and chocolate birthday cake. And it was SO UNFAIR because James got to choose the first piece and was served the first slice of cake and got to blow the candle out. “I will NOT sing ‘Happy Birthday.' This is the worst day ever and nobody is paying any attention to me.”
James, bless his gentle heart, was endlessly patient with Owen all day. “I love you Owen. It’s just my birthday today.” “No! I hate this day!” Roy and I worked hard to strike a balance of reassuring Owen that he is loved and necessary, while not taking away from hopefully helping James have a special day. This proved exhausting.
James received a special FaceTime call from Grandpa and Grandpa Davis, and then an extra-special call from his best friend Alexa. His face lit up like a Christmas tree when her face appeared on the screen and they eagerly exchanged details of their day. Owen’s head kept appearing in front of James, whining, “Why doesn’t Alexa want to talk to ME?! This day is the worst!” Alexa, to her credit, reassured Owen that she liked him too, but that it was James’ birthday. “Why can’t it be MY birthday? Nobody is paying attention to me!”
After a brief rest time (bliss!) Roy departed for a rehearsal in Buffalo. I invited the boys to join me in some games. James eagerly agreed while Owen declared, “No! I don’t WANT to play any games!” So I started a round of Battleship with James and Owen immediately inserted himself in the middle of it, insisting on assisting with peg placement and guesses. We actually made it through the game without anything being thrown across the room.
Felix requested that we play “Loo’in’ Lou’ee” next. We enjoyed several half-rounds in which we set up all of the chicken tokens, Felix turned the game on, and then shut it off almost immediately. “I lost my chi’ens! I nee’ to put my chi’ens back!” This was great fun, with giggles all around. At one point Owen got up while we were re-setting the game, but returned in time for the next round.
Shortly after that I thought I heard something in the living room. I paused, and, sure enough, there was an odd shuffling noise. I got up and walked across the downstairs.
There was an enormous man in my living room. His shoes were off, he was removing his coat, and very much making himself at home. My five year old had let a perfect stranger into our house and neglected to feel any alarm or the need to inform his mother. Oh, there were many thoughts.
“WHO IS THIS?!”
“Owen must have let this dude in here. He KNOWS not to open the door without permission.”
“That is one big guy.”
"We can't be getting robbed. How will I protect the kids?"
"We can't be getting robbed. How will I protect the kids?"
“I don’t have a bra on. Of course.”
I did not scream. Mercifully. I assumed the stranger was a meter reader. He greeted me cheerfully, informing me that he was here to pick up some person I had never heard of. I politely pointed him up the street in the direction of the house number he was looking for. I deadbolted the door. And then, Owen’s day got a whole lot more “unfair.”
Roy’s reaction after I filled him in?
“Well, in Owen’s defense, even if that guy had turned out to be a serial killer he was definitely not making a big deal about James’ birthday.”
Oh y’all. It’s been a DAY.
...
P.S. I just put the boys to bed. I asked them each to think of something they were thankful for. Owen happily declared, without batting an eye, "I am thankful it was James' birthday and I am thankful that he loves me."
Dead.
...
P.S. I just put the boys to bed. I asked them each to think of something they were thankful for. Owen happily declared, without batting an eye, "I am thankful it was James' birthday and I am thankful that he loves me."
Dead.
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