Sooooo

The last 24 hours have been a TOTAL SUCKFEST.

• Suck Number One: Last night right before dinner the eldest Sparkets child started complaining about her ears. "Shoot," we thought, "hope she doesn't have an ear infection." The complaining turned into screaming which turned into vomiting; at which point we thought, "Dang. Hope she doesnt have an alien hatchling in her head". At which point we took her to the ER.




• Suck Number Two: Turned out to be a double ear infection. Actually, that's not really a suck, given the alternatives. But I nearly punched the doctor when she told us that we hadn't really needed to bring her in on a weekend like this, next time maybe we should just give her some ibuprofrin and call our pediatrician on Monday. Excuse me, but did you not just watch this child scream herself into vomit-y hysterics? Do you realize that I rushed out of the house wearing pants that have a fist-sized hole in the crotch (hey, I was doing laundry!) DO NOT TELL ME THAT I AM OVER REACTING.

• Suck Number Three: So we are playing on the swingset this afternoon when I looked down to see a rather small mouse climb out of the mulch and begin to creep towards the sliding board. I am not overly afraid of mice; but I am a dainty woman-type, so normally I would have done something dainty and womanly like shriek and/or collapse on a chaize lounge. But there was something about this mouse that was...odd. So odd that I just stared at it for about 20 seconds incredulously.

That's when I realized. It was grey and fuzzy but it wasn't a mouse.

It was a freaking mouse sized spider.

Hoooooooly craaaaaaap.

I think I must have shot eight feet into the air like a cartoon character. I then swallowed my hysteria and ordered my two year old to "get Mommy a stick". After bringing me every twig in the yard, she finally came up with a decent weapon-sized stick whick I used to flip the monster out of the mulch onto a patch of dirt and impale it. It was a little something like this:

Then I cried like a big, blubbery baby and the kids stood around me, patting me on the back and saying, "It's OK, Mommy."

So, total suckfest, though looking back it could have been a lot worse.

Letters to Isaac, month 11

Dear Isaac,

I am a little late getting this letter out to you this month. As you know, we have been busy, busy, busy. And you have changed so much this month, I can hardly believe it.



Look at you, big boy! You are cruising! You pulled yourself up a few times last month, but this month you started doing it consistently. You are very pleased with yourself. And you have no fear. As long as you have your hand on a solid object, no matter how stable, you are cruising. You’re like Spiderman, creeping along the circumference of the room. You will be walking before you know it. Then your sister had better watch out.

She is really starting to warm up to you.



Well, most of the time. When she feels like it. But you two are starting to play together on a semi-regular basis and man, is that ever cute. Nobody makes you laugh quite like Isabel does. You are even beginning to copy the things she does. When she claps, you clap. When she says, “no!” you say, “nuh!” That pisses her off. He he he. You are starting to develop a saucy little personality, babe.



I am constantly amazed at how I can love anyone so much. Honestly, when your sister was born I wondered how I could possibly love any other human being as much as I loved her. Then you came along, and my heart just got bigger I guess, because there is just as much love there for you. And you are such a neat little guy. You are a chill kid, but you stand up for yourself when you need to. You already have this wry sense of humor. I can’t wait until you can talk and I can have a peek at what is going on in your little mind. You are still your Daddy’s spitting image, but every now and then lately you remind me a little of Geeze.



A couple of other firsts this month:

First Saint Patrick’s day:


First Easter egg hunt (and subsequent first Twix bar):

And first ear infection. I don’t have a picture of that. I was too busy obsessively jamming thermometers into every possible orifice of your body. Poor little dude. You ran a hundred-and-four-point-something temperature one night and scared the crud out of me. So for days I took your temperature like, every thirty minutes. You came through it like a champ, though. I’m proud of you, buddy.

Now, let’s talk about weaning. You are currently nursing anywhere from five to seven times a day, depending on how often I get up with you at night. Yikes. This is all totally my fault, of course. I have been horribly inconsistent with sleep training and, let’s face it, it takes two to tango. The other day I realized that you are going to be one in a few weeks and, yeesh, you are still nursing like a newborn. Maybe it’s because you were such a pleasant infant that I haven’t been in a rush to move you out of that stage. I sometimes want to put you in a pickle jar to keep you little, but at the same time I can’t wait to watch you grow. You are turning into a fantastic kid and I love a little more every day.

Love,
Mama

Letters to Isabel, Month 35

Dear Isabel,

Today you turn 35 months old. Well, technically you turned 35 months old last Tuesday, but we have been way too busy lately for me to get a chance to write this. We had two really fun holidays this month! Now that you are getting old enough to understand and anticipate holidays, I find I am enjoying them like I never have before.



We had a visit from the Leprechauns on Saint Patrick’s Day. They left green footprints all over the place and a special treat for you and your brother. We ate green eggs and ham and made shamrock crafts. Yours was a little abstract.

It basically consisted of you squeezing as much Elmer’s glue as possible out of the bottle before I took it from you and forced you to actually stick things onto your paper with it. Most of your crafts lately look like that. I have to feed my inner perfectionist a loooooot of Valium in order to avoid stifling your creativity. And boy, have you got some creativity.

You, child, are a glorious mess. How I love you for it. You have taught me how to take a deep breath and remind myself that finger-paint will eventually be cleaned up, but that the memories we are making will last forever. And you know what? You are fairly washable. Thank goodness.

Speaking of messes, can we talk about Easter? Oy.



I have many pictures of you looking very cute in your Easter clothes, but this one really sums up the holiday best. Coated inside and out with chocolate, buzzing hard on sugar, and wearing butterfly wings. We had a family party at Nanny’s house and man, did you have a lot of candy. Every adult there took nearly obscene delight in stuffing you full. I almost felt sorry for you. We took you home that afternoon and you curled up on your Dad’s shoulder and said, “Guys? I don’t think we should eat any more candy because it’s not very good for us.” Then I did feel sorry for you. I even threw out the candy you collected during the Easter egg hunt because, really, enough is enough.

All that being said, I hope you are ready to be spoiled rotten yet again in a few more weeks. That is right; the long-awaited birthday party is finally at hand. I may have begun preparing you for this a bit early. For the last month you have talked about little else. It has gotten to the point that any time you ask for anything and I say “no” you reply, “maybe for my birthday?”
It is going to be very fun, though. Hopefully I will be able to keep the sugar to a minimum. I may put the following picture on the fridge to remind myself what happens when you have too much of the white stuff.



Darling girl, it is hard to believe you are going to be three. I don’t know if I am ready. You sure are, though. You have the three-year-old debate skills down pat. For instance, not long ago you were busily jumping up and down when I thought I smelled an accident in your pull-up.

“Isabel”, I said sternly. “Come over here and let me change you.”

Without skipping a beat you bent down and scooped a plastic banana off the floor. You looked at me with the air of one who has the weight of immutable logic on her side. Still hopping, you raised your eyebrows and replied,

“Does a monkey get changed? Nooooo!”

I love you, little monkey, and can’t wait to see what next month brings us.



Love,
Mama

Brought to you by the letter "P"

I only have one item in my make up case that costs more than ten dollars. It's this:

That would be an M.A.C. blush brush. It may not seem like much of a splurge; but consider the fact that I will use the same goopy Wet 'n' Wild mascara for six months until BJ's runs a coupon for it. So a thirty dollar blush brush? Big splurge. But it makes my cheekbones look great.

So here's the scene. Bella is on the potty.

Her clothes are covered in green paint. "Baby Isaac and I are going upstairs for one minute to get you some clean clothes." I say sternly. "Do not get up off this potty."

Well. Those of you who have had an almost-three-year-old know that I may as well have said "Please get up off the potty and do the most disgusting thing imaginable while I am gone." Have you guessed yet? Forty five seconds later I returned to find her painting the bathroom walls with her own pee. Her choice of paintbrush?

I was actually so beyond repulsed and angry that I burst out laughing. Isabel, relieved, laughed as well. Then, before I could decide what to do with the monstrous mess in front of me, she solemnly sprinkled the baby and I with the pee, like a Catholic priest blessing the congregation with holy water.

To be fair, our lesson theme for the day was the letter "P". We made cute little toilet-paper-roll Piggies, hand print Penguins, Painted Pictures of Peacocks, and ate Pasta with Peas. So, I guess this seemed like a fitting end to the morning?

Thank you, God, for a sense of humor. And also for Clorox wipes.

Update update

Well, turned out to be an ear infection-a Sparkets family first. He is on antibiotics and seems much better. Unfortunately, three sleepless nights have caused me to revert to my alter ego, Insano-Mommy. I had hoped that we had seen the last of her, but she is back; refusing to put on make up or brush her hair, basically just walking around the house in circles and crying at the drop of hat. So if you stop by in the next day or so try not judge me by the pile of unfolded laundry on my couch. And whatever you do, don't drop your hat.

Update

Dear Isaac,

P.S. So I checked on you last night around ten pm and you were burning up. Your temperature was a hundred and four. Please please please please please do not do that to me ever again. I cannot take it. Plus, you did not very much enjoy being taken from your bed in the middle of the night and plunked into a sink full of tepid water. You are much better today, thank goodness, but that was a rough night. So, really, buddy. Let's not, OK?

Letters to Isaac, Month 10

Dear Isaac,

Today you turn 10 months old. I was not sure whether I was going to get this letter done today, as things have been pretty topsy-turvy around here lately. Yesterday you came down with a nasty fever, you poor thing. You have spent the last 24 hours lying on my lap like a sad, sad little slug. In addition, yesterday at nap time your big sister discovered the joys of…cue ominous drum roll…

Finger-painting. In case you couldn’t tell by the ominous drum-roll, the medium she chose was most definitely not made by Crayola. You get my drift. All of this has left your Mommy pretty tired and sitting on top of a truly heinous pile of laundry. But I digress.

So much has happened this month with you, I hardly know where to begin. You are crawling, little buddy! You still mainly stick to the belly-crawl, but you are getting up on those hands and knees more and more often. I expected you to be more excited about this newfound ability, but you are so enamored by the idea of walking that you don’t seem much to care.

You. Want. To. Run. You spend a lot of your day propped up against the couch or nearest adult, in love with the sensation of standing on your own two feet. You watch your sister with envious fascination as she thunders around the house. You are trying very hard to get the hang of pulling yourself up on the furniture. It will be soon, buddy, very soon. You even stand on your own for four to five seconds. You have already managed some pretty spectacular conks to your noggin.

It's hard to believe your birthday is in another two months. I have no idea what to get you. You haven't really expressed any strong preferences with regards to playthings. Actually, if I can find anything that makes you half as happy as an empty 20 ounce soda bottle, I'd feel pretty good.

You are still a totally laid back little dude. Really, you’re a happy kid. I have to tell you this because for some reason it is impossible to get a picture of you smiling. Whenever you see the camera, you get this little scowl on your face. You're like, "There she goes with that thing again."

I thought maybe if I put you in your favorite place, doing your absolutely favorite thing, I would be guaranteed a smiling picture. I mean, I have never seen you in your swing without a big smile on your face.

No such luck. And you have the sweetest little shy smile. The girls are already ga-ga for you. You are very friendly, but starting to show a little bit of separation anxiety, which is totally normal for your age.

This doesn’t help with the sleep training. What is up with your sleep patterns? For one whole week you slept nine hours in a row every night! Then you were like, “Psych!” We are making ground, though. No more nursing between the hours of 7pm and 4am. When you wake up during this time, your daddy goes in and calms you down. Hooray, Daddy!

Unless you are sick. Last night we hung out together in the rocking chair for most of the night, And that’s OK. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help you feel better, little man. I hope you kick this thing soon and can go back to being the regular little dynamo of action
you usually are. I love you so much little buddy, and look forward to seeing what you do next month!

Love,
Mama