Research

If we tell our friends we are about to make a purchase, be it a camera or a car, that is probably the first word that comes to mind. Silas and I have a reputation for researching everything we buy to the point of obsession. It takes us forever to make a purchase. Well, except for that one time we went to Best Buy, saw a TV, walked over to the Don Pablos and had some margaritas, then walked back to Best Buy and bought it. (It still works, 7 years later, though now it's the laughing stock of all other TVs, but it doesn't matter because as I mentioned before IT STILL WORKS.)

Anyway, I broke our coffee maker carafe about 2 weeks ago and we still haven't replaced it. We've had this coffee maker for less than a year, and lots of research went into buying it...and, well, it's a Black and Decker 5 cup coffee maker that cost less than $20. I could explain to you all of the reasons why, after weeks of research, we ended up with that particular coffee maker, but I won't bore you with the details. Last night we were at Kohl's and Silas walked over to the cart with a coffee maker in his hands and asked me what I thought. I looked at him like he was from another planet and asked him if he knew anything about that particular coffee maker and he replied, rather sheepishly, "No. We should put this back and go home and look it up online, shouldn't we?" So, we came home and found out that lots of people didn't like it. And we're still using the aeropress to make coffee. Which is, quite frankly, getting to be too much work every morning.

Now we need a new camera. Oh, yea, you can just imagine how, if we research a coffee maker that much, we're going to research plunking down the cash for a camera. We have a deadline, too. We're leaving for Florida March 15th, so we need this camera by then. Bonus points if we figure out how to use it before we leave.

We're probably going to be buying a new car in the next 1-2 years, too. Stay tuned for the production that will be.

Who needs television?

I love that Alison says things like "We come here often" instead of "We come here a lot". Or "What should I illustrate next?" instead of "What should I draw next?".

I find it amusing that Oliver looked at me this morning while he was painting and said "I think I going to get sick, mama". When I asked why, he said "Because I just ate paint".

I also love it when Alison has the day off of school and the two of them spend half an hour running around the house buck naked, acting like maniacs, before they manage to get dressed for the day. Or the fact that it takes us forever to eat breakfast because Oliver keeps making Alison laugh. I didn't even mind when Oliver looked like he had bathed in yogurt instead of just eaten it.

Me: "Oliver, how did you get yogurt in your hair?"

Alison: ***dies laughing***

I think I love Alison's days off more than she does.

Seriously, every time Si leaves for more than a day something bad happens.

Alternate title: She didn't feel warm until we were on our way to the doctor. For Real.

Yesterday Alison went to school and then on a field trip. With a perforated ear drum. Oh, yes, she did. There goes that mom of the year award. Although, I probably kissed that goodbye when I started pantsing my kids for fun, but whatever.

So, yea. I feel kinda' bad. Wednesday morning started like it usually does. Alarm went off, I worked out, took a shower, and woke up the kids to get ready to take Ali to school.

The day would end with Alison, Oliver and I looking pathetic, sitting on the benches by the pharmacy at Target, waiting for a very expensive antibiotic. None of us had eaten, it was getting late, and one of us had liquid coming out of one ear.

In between there was a call from school, a few episodes of crying and whimpering, a trip to the doctor, and a near car disaster.

To be fair, and make me look even worse, I should tell you that Alison was awake at 3 and then again at 3:30 Wednesday morning. However, she never felt warm, and also-she's only had 1 or 2 ear infections in her whole life before this, all before the age of 2. When I woke them up at the normal time Wednesday morning she was her usual talkative, happy self. I asked her if her ear hurt, and she said no. She did! I swear!!

Anyway, after dropping Ali off and eating breakfast, Oliver and I went to Target. The plan was to pick up some lunch and head over to a fellow VA worker's house where I would leave Oliver and go on Ali's field trip. As Oliver and I were waiting for our sandwiches my phone rang. It was Ali's teacher, telling me Alison had been crying off and on for 20 minutes. Alison only cries at home. I mean, really. One time her teacher asked me if she ever showed any extremes of emotion, because at school she's always very stoic. The answer to that question is a resounding Yes, Alison does show extremes of emotion. Here in the comfort of her home where she knows that she can freak out and we will still love her.

The plan was for me to come to school early, with ibuprofen, and assess the situation. When I showed up at school Alison was in the office drawing pictures. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she was very pale. The second she saw me tears started streaming down her face. I gave her some ibuprofen and took her over to her classroom. Her class was in the library for spanish, but her teacher was there. Within 5 minutes Ali was acting normal again, talking and making jokes. Except for being pale, she seemed fine. We made the decision that since she wasn't contagious (no liquids oozing out of her-yet!, no throwing up, no coughing or sneezing) and I was going on the field trip to just go with the plan.

Half-way through the 2 hour field trip it was obvious that Alison was very tired and didn't feel all that great, but she still wasn't complaining about her ear. We got back to school and as her classmates were putting on their snow stuff to go outside I collected Alison's things and told her teacher we were just going to go home.

Here's where the fun starts. As we were talking down the sidewalk to the car, Alison started crying because her ear hurt. I managed to get an appointment at our usual clinic, but not with our normal pediatrician, at 4:20. By the time I stopped to stock up on tylenol and ibuprofen and picked up Oliver it was 10 to 4. Alison is alternately whimpering and sleeping in the back seat, and Oliver is asking for snacks. I'm driving down a street in our fair city when the car starts making a bad sound. It's coming from the front passenger side, by the tire, and it's rhythmic. I'm thinking that maybe, just maybe, I have a big slush puppy pressing on the tire, but when I get out to check I don't see anything. I also don't see any parts obviously missing or hanging out the bottom of the car. Going back home to get the other car would make us WAY too late. I say a lot of bad words inside of my head, along with a prayer that we'll at least make it to the doctor's office. About 5 minutes later the sound stopped. I think I might have had some ice jammed up somewhere, but quite honestly, I don't care. When I realized the car stopped making that sound I experienced relief much like I imagine prisoners feel when they realize they've been pardoned a half an hour before their appointment with the electric chair.

At the doctor Ali was pressing her ear against my body for counter pressure, which must have been offering some relief from the pain. She was trying so hard not to cry, but when we finally got into a room and the doctor started even thinking about poking around in there she couldn't stop the tears. Since I had already given her ibuprofen they gave her a dose of tylenol. The doctor (nurse practitioner, actually, but doctor is much easier and faster to type) told me she couldn't really visualize Ali's ear drum, it was so wet in there. She was assuming it was perforated, though, because Alison had been complaining of popping and crackling sounds, and when she would hiccup or cough she would start crying from the pain. So, a scrip for antibiotics was faxed to the Target by our house. The same Target I had spent an hour in with Oliver earlier that day, buying things one buys at Target. Which means I had nothing else I needed to buy at Target. Except antibiotics, I guess.

We finally made it home at quarter to six, with McDonald's that we picked up on our way. Alison has had 3 doses of antibiotics (we’re healthy, we should get the high deductible plan! We never need prescriptions!) so far, and still needs some medicine when she first lays down to help a bit with the pain, but she is doing much, MUCH better. Her ear, quite frankly, is gross. It has had some nice, pinkish/yellowish/whitish discharge oozing out of it, which is lovely. Today is the first day she hasn't been leaving little marks behind on the pillow when she lays down. She spent all day yesterday writing out valentines, so she really wanted to go to school today. However, within 5 minutes of walking into the lunchroom at school she had tears streaming down her face from the noise. She also says some things sound "echo-y". She really did a bang-up job on that ear.

Silas comes home tonight. I'm assuming she'll be 100% tomorrow.

I capitalized the 'S' in Starwars for you, Si

Back in the days when Alison was two and disgusted by her new baby brother, who drooled and spit up and pooped all over himself on a regular basis, I dreamed about a day when they would be each others' best friends. To me, having more than one child was a way to give Alison a companion for the rest of her life. Someone who would know her history, who would be able to relate to her in a way no one else really could, since they would be raised by the same crazy parents. I also thought about how much more fun it would make our family. I mean, having Alison was pretty awesome. She made everything more entertaining--from eating dinner at night to going to the zoo to grocery shopping. How could having a second child do anything but up the fun factor? Also, my hormones were screaming at me to have another baby. A tiny, helpless infant who would rely on my for everything. EVERYTHING.

So, Oliver came along, and oh, boy, he did rely on me for everything. He also reminded me that having an infant who relies on you for everything is exhausting. Exhausting in a wonderful way, but exhausting just the same. What's more, Alison really wanted nothing to do with him. It's not that she didn't like him, it's just, well, our pediatrician put it best: She was only 2. To her, he was like a toy that was broken. He didn't really do anything. Just laid around, and sometimes cried. Which is loud and annoying.

Now it's three years later, and that little blob of an infant and that little 2 year old girl have grown into two of the greatest kids in the world. Although, I may be a bit biased, but I don't think so. They have also grown closer to each other. Especially recently. Since they share a room, we made the big bedroom downstairs a playroom. I was very excited to get all of the brightly colored plastic crap out of the living room and confined to one space. However, the kids would take the brightly colored plastic crap out of the playroom, drag it into the living room, kitchen, hallway--really, whatever public space would be most inconvenient, and play with it there. This annoyed me to no end. Why have a playroom when you're stepping on weeble wobbles, kicking balls, and tripping over stuffed animals on your way to the bathroom anyway?

This has finally shifted. Now after breakfast, Oliver almost always heads straight to the playroom, where I can here him happily acting out scenarios with his cars, animals, Starwars guys, whatever. After we get Ali home from school they both head in there, most of the time to play a game together. Two weekends ago Ali had Friday and Monday off. For 4 days those kids played together almost constantly. It was one of the greatest weekends of my life. I'm not saying they never fought, they are brother and sister after all, and if they didn't ever fight I'd probably start to panic and wonder what is wrong with them. But they did act like the brother and sister I hoped they would be a few years ago when I knew I was going to make Alison a big sister. At one point they asked to go outside and told me I should stay in the house. Because I wasn't born yesterday I followed them outside to keep the damage to a minimum ( I ended up basically being a snow ball making machine).

In a couple of months we're heading to Florida to hang out at the beach and take in a Twins spring training game, and all Si and I talk about is how much fun we're going to have. Having the two of them is like bringing a play buddy for each kid! A play buddy who isn't going to go home and tell their mom how crazy the McAghons are and how the mother always laughs when someone toots. Every time. Much like a 6 year old boy might.

Class of '09

We just had a pretty big weekend in our house. After 4 and a half long years, Silas graduated from St. Thomas with his MBA. He worked very, very hard, and words can't express how proud I am of him. He managed to work full-time, be an excellent husband and father, and still take two classes a semester. And do very well in those classes. There were some long weeks, like when he would go to class Monday and Tuesday nights, then go on a business trip for the rest of the week, but we all made adjustments, and now we are basking in the glow of his accomplishment.

We asked Alison if she ever remembered Daddy not going to school, and she said she didn't. The night after Oliver was born Si had class. That was probably the hardest time for me. It can be a long day with a newborn baby and a 2 year old when your partner comes home at 6. When he's not coming home until 9:30 it's REALLY long.

Friday night we went to Si's graduation ceremony. I'm not one for crying, or outward shows of emotion, but seeing Si in his cap and gown almost made me choke up a bit. Hearing his name called and listening to the kids next to me shouting "Yea, Daddy!" will always rank up there as one of my favorite memories. And afterwards, thanks to the generosity of some friends and my mom and dad, we got a night at the Westin to relax and sleep in. THAT made me choke up. Though I'm just going to say that no actual tears escaped my eyes. So, mom and Janice, you didn't make me cry.

We followed Friday up with an open house on Saturday night. It was amazing to be surrounded by so many of our friends. We are truly blessed to have such a great group of people around us, always rooting for us, and always willing to eat our food and drink our beer. There were so many times last night where I just stood and looked around at all of the conversations going on around me...it was awesome.

I'm happy that Silas won't miss out on any more nights with our kids. There were some days when he wouldn't see them at all and I would tell him stories about what they did or said, and I could tell how much he hated missing all of those little moments. Now when the kids ask me if Daddy is going to eat supper with us I can say "yes". Although they will probably be disappointed that we aren't having frozen raviolis and jarred tomato sauce as much as we used to.

The field trip that was worse than a horror movie

Today I put on my Mrs. McAghon name tag and chaperoned Alison's field trip to the Minneapolis Fire Fighters Museum. I also had to take Oliver along. I wasn't too worried about it. Until I found myself laying on the floor of the museum on my stomach with a coat hanger in my hand trying to fish a car that we didn't own out from underneath some old piece of fire fighting equipment. Then there was the time when we were counting up all of the kids and we were missing one. And I couldn't figure out which one it was. It was Alison. Not only is she MY child, she was also one of the 4 kids (besides Oliver) I was supposed to be in charge of. I rock.

There was a room called 'The Fire Prevention and Safety Room". In this room was a small house with different rooms in it, and the front was covered in plexiglass so you could see inside. There was a small plastic guy falling asleep in a chair with a cigarette, a dryer with the vent full of lint, some bad wiring...the whole shebang. There was also a man hyped up on fire prevention speedballs or something, giving a group of kindergartners a talk about fire safety. He went well beyond the 'stop, drop and roll' bit. He told them about being wet and touching electrical outlets, and then made his point by making a spark come out of some room in the little house, complete with a nice, loud sizzling sound. He made the living room, where the guy was falling asleep smoking a cigarette, fill with smoke. He made the wall behind the dryer glow orange with fire. He even emphasized his point by some pretty horrific true life stories. One ended with a little boy being badly burned and scarred because instead of stopping, dropping, and rolling he ran to his father, feeding oxygen to the fire.

The whole time (well, except when I was on my stomach out in the museum fishing a car my 3 year old had stolen from the play area out from under some old piece of metal) I stood in the back of the room and watched Alison. She was on the edge of her seat. Soaking up everything that was happening in the little house, and remembering every word that guy was saying. I knew we were going to have a problem. Ever since we told her about the smoke detector and what it's there for a few months ago she has been nervous about fire. When fear monger bill was done with his speech and it was time to move on, Alison turned around with the rest of her classmates. But instead of running happily out into the museum to play on an old fire truck, she ran to me and grabbed onto my leg. Her eyes were red and brimming with tears.

I managed to calm her down, and she had fun the rest of the trip. Then we came home and before dance class she gave Oliver a speech about how he shouldn't touch anything electrical when he's wet. And she reminded him about how to stop, drop, and roll. And she asked me about our dryer's lint trap.

Then came bed time. Oh, man. At one point Oliver was showing her how to crawl out of bed and into the hallway in the event our house starts on fire to help her calm down (apparently he was paying more attention that I gave him credit for). He also very helpfully reminded her they could go out the window if there was fire in the hallway. She begged him to stop talking about it. To finally get her to bed, Silas had to promise her our house would not start on fire tonight.

I know that most of her class did not come home with a brand new fear of fire. In fact, I'm pretty sure she's the only one who took everything to heart as much as she did. That's just the way she is. She worries about stuff most kids don't worry about. Stuff that she should be trusting Si and I are taking care of. Even while I'm telling her not to worry and we've got it covered and her job is to be a kid and have fun and OUR job is to worry about everything, I know exactly where she is coming from, because I was the same way. I remember thinking that if I wasn't going to worry about this or that and remind my parents, maybe they would forget and then whatever it was wouldn't get done. And to tell you the truth, every once in a while she does remind me about something that I would've forgotten had she not said anything. It's taken me many years to learn how to not sweat the small stuff. I hope I can make her figure it out much sooner.

Although, come to think of it, your house starting on fire really doesn't fall into the "small stuff" category. More like the "stuff you don't have total control over" category. I can't really help her out with that one.

Blank Page

So, I've been sitting here staring at this blank computer screen for a while. I need to update this blog. I've got nothing. I could tell you about the time a few weeks ago when I drove down 66th street past a car that was pulled over, only to see it was Si and the kids. Then when he came home he informed me that my license was suspended.

I could list a bunch of funny things the kids have said lately. There is always plenty of those little pearls.

We had Thanksgiving here and our house managed to hold 8 people from Wednesday until Sunday. It was really fun. The kids are having a hard time adjusting to real life today.

I could choose any of these things, but apparently I'm having trouble adjusting to real life today, too. I can't hold a thought in my head for more than a few minutes. In fact, it has taken me 15 minutes to type these few paragraphs. So, perhaps I'll go to bed now and have something fresh and witty for you tomorrow.

My baby is 3!

In honor of Oliver's 3rd birthday I decided to ask him a few questions. A little interview with the person I spend the most time with. I realized as I was asking him these questions that if I asked them again tomorrow--or in 5 minutes--the answers to most of them would change. Except for the pants one. He is firmly anti-pants.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

space man (this means astronaut)

What is your favorite thing to play with?

Lightning McQueen

What is your favorite movie?

Cars

What is your favorite thing to do with your sister?

Play (like, duh!)

What do you like about staying home with mommy all day?

Playing (do you sense a theme here?)

Do you like wearing pants?

No. I like to be naked.

What is your favorite animal?

giraffes

What is your favorite color?

blue

What is your favorite book?

Where the Wild Things Are

And there you have it. Out of the mouth of the baby of the family. Sometimes I can't believe how different it is staying home with him all day as compared to when I stayed home with Alison alone all day. Granted, by the time Alison was his age she was no longer home alone with me, but it's amazing how much trouble Oliver can get into in just a short amount of time. For instance, Monday night while I was washing dishes after supper, Alison took that opportunity to go in the playroom and play. Oliver decided it would be fun to somehow get the doorstop out of the wall in the kitchen. Last night while I was cooking supper Alison did her homework, and Oliver took the wooden dowel out of the bottom of the shades in their room. Then today when we were outside he managed to take apart a flower bed. He took all of the rocks that were being used as a border and either rolled them down the hill or put them in his dump truck to be moved to another location. He was very proud of himself for not eating a black worm he found, though, and pointed that fact out to me several times. "Memba, mommy, that that worm tasted bad? Yuck! Phewey!" I didn't have the heart to tell him that most kids wouldn't know from first hand experience that black worms taste bad. Or maybe they would, but I only have experience with one other kid and she would've died before eating a worm.

I don't know what I'd do all day without Oliver. He keeps me company (today he told me we make a good team), he makes me laugh, he forces me to play cars over and over again. He is the entertainer in this family. If he does or says something and it gets a favorable reaction, he gets this twinkle in his eye like "oh, yea, you like that, do you?" and continues to do it over and over. He makes Alison laugh by doing this a lot, and it's pretty hilarious, because he can't help but laugh at the same time. He has an incredible imagination--his cars are always talking to each other and acting out complicated scenarios that usually involve saving someone.

Yesterday he turned 3, and while I was sad to say goodbye to 2, I realize that each year brings me something else to look forward to. It has been so much fun to watch him grow and learn, and I'm so happy I get to be a part of it. Happy Birthday, O-Mac! I know we'll laugh together this year as much as we have the past 2, Little Man.

What we're dealing with

So, we have this boy, Oliver. Oliver is very cute, and he is very funny, and he can be very sweet. Most of the time when I'm laughing it's because of something Oliver said or did. However, Oliver is also very, VERY stubborn. Here are just a few examples:

I was working last weekend and Silas was getting the kids ready for church. They were all dressed except for one last step-Oliver needed his shoes on. He refused. He said he wanted to go to church in bare feet. Silas pulled out the bribe. "But Oliver, we have enough time to go get doughnuts if we leave now, and you need shoes at the grocery store." Most children would put on shoes for the love of doughnuts, but not Oliver. Oliver says he doesn't want doughnuts, and he still wants to go to church in bare feet.

Trying to get him to drink milk: Milk will give you strong bones and teeth! You'll grow into a big, strong boy if you drink milk!

"Me don't want my teeth to get bigger!"

"No, Oliver, they won't get bigger, they'll get strong."

"Me don't want my teeth to be stwong."

"Well, they'll fall out of your head if you don't drink milk and then how will you chew all of that yummy food you like?"

"Me don't want to chew."

Getting ready to go to daycare in the morning, Oliver refuses to put on pants (are you sensing a theme here?). Silas keeps repeating how much fun he always has at Jodi's playing with the other kids! and all the toys!

"Me don't want to go to Jodi's and have fun playing. Me want to stay hewe and be sad."

Night of the living two year old

Here is a list of things Oliver did tonight.

Emptied all of the CDs and DVDs out of their boxes and scattered them across the living room floor.

Took all of the books out of their bookshelf and left them in a pile on their bedroom floor.

Peed and pooped in the potty.

Peed in his underwear.

Peed on the pile of books in their room.

Took all of the cars/tractors out of the basket in the playroom.

Took all of the plastic animals out of the basket in the playroom.

Threatened to throw a large metal car at his sister.

Still managed to be the cutest thing ever.

The first of 13 first days

You will never believe what happened today. Alison went to kindergarten. Because she is 5 years old and is supposed to go to kindergarten. It was very surreal. Silas and I said as much to each other as we followed her up the sidewalk to school. She was very excited and not at all nervous. We were waiting in the lunchroom to go up to the opening service and she asked me while I was still there and why I just didn't go home, so I wasn't too worried about her. People must have been worried about me, though, because I fielded several calls from people concerned about my well-being. I'm here to say I'm fine! I did really well. No tears, even.

Oliver was very excited and needed to get his picture taken, too.

Showing off the all important Tinker Bell lunch box.

It was chilly this morning, but I wanted pictures of her dress without her coat, so she bucked up just like a real model and went coat-less until I had had my fill.

Walking to the garage.

Walking up the sidewalk to school.

Oliver, once again, in on the action.

Almost there!

Standing in line with her class waiting to go up to the opening service. Notice her height. Notice everyone else's. That's my girl!

She came home and declared she was ready for 1st grade. Then she fell asleep on the couch. So maybe not quite ready for 1st grade. After we put the kids to bed we could hear them talking to each other for a while.

They haven't done that all summer (mainly because they are so exhausted when they go to bed I think they just pass out) so they must have missed each other.

And so her school adventure begins. I wonder if she'll let me take pictures of her like this when she's 17?

Here, go ahead and laugh at my expense

I've never been the kind of person who is overly worried about making a complete fool of myself in front of people. That's not to say that I don't care if I do, it's just not something I waste my time worrying about (which is amazing for me, because I waste a lot of time worrying about things I have no control over). Which would explain that every time I get into our VW Beetle, Ringo, I manage to make a complete idiot of myself.

Ringo used to be my car, and love him I did. It was by far the newest car I had ever driven. Silas and I took it on road trips and camped out of it. But then we had a baby and it was a giant pain to get the baby and her car seat in and out of the backseat of that car. Also, not a lot of room for baby-related accoutrements in the trunk. So, we got a new car, a gleaming new station wagon, and Ringo became Silas's car. Mainly it just transports him to and from work, because let's face it, I don't know a lot of men who want to tool around town in a green VW Beetle if they don't have to (Silas has to, it's paid for).

Well, Ringo now has about 125,000 miles on him and he's 10 years old. That's not so bad, except he has also proven not to be the most reliable of all cars ever made. I lose track of his little idiosyncracies now since the only time I ever drive him is when I have to work a weekend, which only happens about once a month. Ringo has a few things that make driving a challenge. First of all, the driver's side door is threatening to fall off. When you open it it moves out and then down about 2 inches, so closing it involves lifting it up and then trying to fit it back in place like a puzzle piece. Those doors are not small, so I can't close it from inside the car since I'm sitting down. I don't have enough leverage to lift it up. Also, there is some kind of leak in the fuel system, so whenever you open the gas cap to fill up the tank it loses pressure and has a problem starting and continuing to run for a few minutes after a visit to the pump. I am constantly forgetting about these problems with the car. Which brings me to yesterday.

I had to work at 3 in the afternoon, so I scheduled a hair cut at 1. At 12:30 I make my way out to the garage and open the driver's side door of Ringo, totally forgetting that the door is broken. So, I gingerly lift it back into place, lean all of my weight against it until it closes, then crawl into the driver's seat through the passenger door since I can't close the driver's door from the inside. Remember here that Ringo has a manual transmission. Also I am very short and need to move the driver's seat up very close to the steering wheel. I back out of the garage only to realize two things: 1. The garbage and recycling cans are blocking my way out, and 2. The neighbor from the apartment building across the alley is trying to get my attention. This is going to require me to get out of the car. And then get back in. Through the passenger door. While there are witnesses. Not just random people at the grocery store (that's happened), but the neighbor whom I see on a fairly regular basis. The neighbor tells me what he needs to tell me, I move the garbage cans, then, with my head held high, crawl into my car and drive away.

I manage to get a haircut and get back into the car without anyone watching. On my way to work however, the car beeps, telling me I'm low on fuel. I really don't like stopping on my way home at midnight to get gas, so I decide to stop before work. I pull into the gas station close to the VA, and the place is hopping. I pull up next to the only available pump, which is going to require that I back out before pulling onto the street. As I uncap the gas tank and begin to fuel I realize something. I'm going to have to crawl back into the stupid car through the passenger door with all of these people watching, and then, after they witness me shimmying myself behind the wheel, I'm going to have to start the car with large amounts of gas, then back out, all the while revving the engine to keep the car running. So I stand there, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, even the nice couple at the pump next to me who are driving the same car I have back at home with a working door and ability to start without embarrassing noises and revving engine after getting gas.

I fill the tank. I open the passenger door, crawl over the passenger seat and stick shift, slide myself very ungracefully behind the steering wheel, and put the keys into the ignition. I put my foot on the clutch and try to start the car. It struggles to turn over, I feel people watching. I start giving it large amounts of gas. It coughs to life. I shift into reverse, all the while giving it tons of gas, revving the engine which, to the casual observer, seems completely pointless. At some point I need to shift into first and go forward without stalling the car. I manage to do it, but it requires a lot more engine revving and stares from startled gas station patrons who are wondering why the woman in the green beetle feels the need to show the power of her mighty 4 cylinder, 1.4 liter engine by constantly cranking on the gas. I pull onto the street, and by the time I hit the first stop light the car is able to come to a complete and full stop without stalling even though I am no longer giving it copious amounts of gas. I look around and, of course, no one is there to witness it.

Si is the only quiet one

Alison has been up at the lake with Mam the last few days, so it's just been Oliver, Si, and I. Last night we walked over to Davanni's for supper. On the way home we let Oliver wander wherever he wanted. He picked crab grass, rocks, and sticks. The entire time he kept up a running commentary. Finally Silas looked at me and said "He talks just as much as Alison". It might be true. That kid was not quiet the entire way home. We played and he talked about playing, about the ant walking by, about the crab grass (which he called 'Grandpa pies', I have no idea why), about the cars on the road, about the leaves on the trees...I don't know if it's the fact that we don't notice him talking as much when there's two of them talking, or if he talks more when he's not competing with Alison.

That night I was reading him his new book about reptiles before bed. I think he asked me about 5 questions per page. It has never taken me so long to read him one book before.

I hope to remember all of this talking someday when he comes home from school and grunts at me when I ask him how his day was, then walks into his room, closes his door, and texts his friends for the rest of the night.

I should be doing laundry...

but I have rededicated myself to keeping you updated on my uber-exciting life. So, here's something Alison said on our way home from the grocery store today that took my breath away. That one song that Norah Jones sings, you know, that one (please don't make me remember right now, I'm concentrating on how I should be doing 40 million other things), was playing on the radio.

A: This song makes my heart think about when I was a little baby.

I used to sing her that song all of the time when she was a baby.

Wow, she really was a cute baby!

Make that out to Oliver, c/o Lund's grocery store

Friday night we went to the grocery store with the kids. All four of us. Which, if you're OK with constantly repeating "Come on, you guys", or "No, don't touch that" is usually OK. But Friday night it was not OK.

We have one of those reusable fabric bags and Oliver was carrying it. It was empty and all folded up. We're in the nirvana that is the Lund's cheese department, and I turn around just in time to see Oliver take the bag and whack Alison over the head with it. As hard as he possibly can. It obviously didn't hurt her, but both of the kids turned to look at me. As soon as Alison saw the horrified look on my face she turned to Oliver and yelled "OLIVER MCAGHON!". I calmly looked at Si, told him I was going to take Oliver out, and wrestled the bag out of his chubby little hands.

This is the part where he starts wailing at the top of his lungs that he wants daddy. While I am carrying him from the back of the store all the way to the front. I keep repeating that we don't hit, that hitting is bad. Whatever, he doesn't care. He would please like the parent who isn't currently punishing him.

The situation deteriorates until we are all in the car on our way home, which takes about 2 minutes. Oliver is now screaming that he doesn't want to go home. We are all ignoring him. We pull into the garage. He switches to screaming that he doesn't want to live here anymore. This we can't leave alone.

"Where do you want to live, buddy?"

(heavy sniffling)"Me want to live at gwocewy sto"

"At the grocery store?"

"Yea"

"But there are no beds at the grocery store, where would you sleep?"

"Me want to bwing my bed to gwocewy sto"

This is concerning to Alison (they share a room and sleep in bunk beds):

"But Oliver, I don't want to live at the grocery store! I want to live here with Mommy and Daddy!"

(sadly,resignedly)"But me do, Ali. Me want to live there."

I guess he was just blowing smoke, though, because he's still living here.

She really is a sensitive girl. OK, maybe not.

The reason I created this blog is because we live so far away from our families. There is no popping in for lunch or having grandma and grandpa able to take the kids for just a few hours on any given day. I wanted there to be a way for them to check in on us and see what's going on from day to day. Also, I don't really enjoy using the phone that often. Anyway, even though I haven't been updating very regularly recently I still like to look back on olds posts to see what we were up to.

That brings me to an added bonus of this blog. I have a horrible memory. In fact, I was just talking to a friend last night and saying that I need to take lots of pictures because otherwise I'll never remember my kids being little. I am not good about having baby books, but I do have this blog. I started it a few months before Alison turned 2. I was pregnant with Oliver. Now Alison is 5, going to kindergarten in a few weeks, and Oliver is 2 (and will not let us forget it, what with the fit every time things don't go his way). It's amazing how fast time is flying by, and I'm so happy I have this journal of sorts to look back and remember some of the more mundane, everyday things I might otherwise forget.

Today is one of those days. I got up, ran, showered. The kids woke up when I was in the shower, so Si turned on Sesame St and got them some waffles. We ate breakfast (oatmeal and blueberry smoothies), got dressed (and Oliver peed in the potty!), and went to Wood Lake Nature Center. We walked around on the short trail, then walked to the corner of 66th and Lyndale (there's a Caribou coffee and Quizno's there, what else does a person need? Oh, a bar.). We got some sandwiches and ate lunch. Then we walked to the vegetable stand in the Champ's parking lot and bought some stuff, which I then had to lug back to the car, along with a very heavy toddler who was too tired to walk any farther. The kids rolled down the hill of the VFW on the way. Then it was back home for a nap and quiet time. (Alison is upstairs right now making a potty for her Littlest Pet Shop.)

None of this makes for very good reading, but I'm happy I wrote it down, because I don't want to forget all of these little moments that make up a life together. I also don't want to forget Alison saying this in the parking lot by the vegetable stand.

Me: "Oliver, you'd better watch out or you're going to end up like that toad we saw at Wood Lake today."

Ali: "Oh, you mean the one that was squished? With its guts hanging out?"

Five, I repeat, Five years old

Saturday I became the mother of a 5 year old. 5 year olds do things like ride big girl bikes and go to school all day 5 days a week. They ask inquisitive questions that you don't know how to answer. They don't take naps. They say silly things like: "Guys-I should really be on the radio. I have a GREAT voice." They say sweet things like: "When I grow up and get married I want to have a little boy just like Oliver." They make you laugh, they make you cry. They make you grit your teeth in frustration right before they give you giant bear hugs.

I, of course, think that I have the best 5 year old in the entire world. She is turning into a big girl right before my very eyes, and I'm trying to do my very best to help her along. To help her, someday, become the woman I know she can be. Because if the last 5 years are any indication, she will be one hell of a woman.

Happy Birthday to the little girl who turned me into a mother and changed my life forever.

We love you, Alison!

Mommy, Daddy & Oliver

Just so I remember

Oliver and I were walking back from the park last week. We were standing by a busy road and a motorcycle drove by.

"That motocyco?"

"Yep"

"Me dive motocyco!"

"Buddy, you have to be 16 to drive."

"sixteen?"

"Yep, and since you live with Mommy and Daddy you'll have to be much, much older to drive a motorcycle"

"Oh"

*************************************************************************************

Oliver has stopped saying 'good' instead of 'yes'. Well, actually, he said 'gooot', but we all knew what he meant. Just one more step away from his babyhood. He is talking more and more, initiating conversations, answering questions, asking questions, and using words he's heard his sister use. He turned 2 and a half yesterday and I'm becoming acutely aware of how fast time is passing. I'm trying to focus on each day, each stage, and enjoy the little idiosyncrasies they bring, because before I know it, they'll have moved on to the next thing. So, right now I'm enjoying the fact that when Oliver talks about himself he never says 'I', it's always 'me', that he starts every answer to every question you ask him with 'because', he says 'Oh, Man!' when things don't go his way (either that or he has a huge screaming crying fit), he calls downstairs 'downstairv', he loves falling asleep reading books, he loves the movie "Cars", he will throw his arms around my neck, bury his face in my shoulder and say "I wuv you!" when I pick him up, and loves to ask the question "Do you wuv it?".

I have started reading chapter books to Alison, and she loves it. So far we've read "Charlotte's Web" and "Peter Pan" and we are working on "The Little Princess". She LOVES Mondays at school because that is when she gets a new library book. This morning before school she made a picture to give to one of her classmates. She sticks up for her little brother if she feels he's being wronged, and calls us for him at night if he's calling and we can't hear his tiny little voice. She just finished dance classes and the other night in the car, in a very sad voice, she said "Mom, I miss Miss Carrie and I miss being a ballerina". The past two weeks she's been in two dance recitals, a spring concert at school, sang in church, and went on 2 field trips. She still loves bugs and spends a lot of time outside trying to pick them up and letting them crawl all over her.

On the other hand, this afternoon the kids had a fight. All I know is I was in the kitchen getting supper ready and I heard Alison crying, followed closely by Oliver crying. When I went out Oliver was laying on his back half in and half out of the sandbox and he had a scratch on his cheek. Apparently he had been burying Alison's feet and ignored her when she asked him to stop. She could only take so much and so she pushed him and somehow scratched his cheek. This is when I feel old...I made them come inside and sit in the naughty chair and step respectively. Then they had to sit on the couch, hold hands, apologize to each other, and tell eachother one thing about the other they liked. They got along splendidly for the rest of the night, but man, did I feel cheesy and old.

The long awaited pictures

Today Oliver puked into my hands, then when I was carrying him up the basement stairs he had a bout of diarrhea that overflowed his pants, went onto my arm and then ran down said arm and onto the steps. Alison, on the other hand, is spending her quiet time on our bed looking out the open window and shouting "Welcome to the Neighborhood!" to the new neighbors who are out in their back yard enjoying the day. She's gotten them to wave to her a few times.

Here are some random pics from the end of winter to Easter, which we spent with Grandma, Grandpa and Uncle Patrick in Wisconsin.

This is what happens when Oliver eats a ring pop. Or, really, food in general.

One morning they came out of their room wearing their new sunglasses acting all noncholant.

Eating pizza, on a bed, watching a movie after a day of playing at the waterpark. HEAVEN!

One sleeping, one faking.

Not sleeping.

Eating breakfast in the hotel room.

The bathtub zoo menagerie.

The Children's Museum.

Alison as a turtle at the Children's Museum.

This big digger showed up across the street one day and dug a huge hole in our neighbor's yard. As you can see, Oliver was completely thrilled.

Eating hot dogs at the Twins game.

Oliver's rally cap, which is what his hat looks like when he puts it on himself.

Cotton Candy soothes the sting of the loss.

Playing Wii skiing at Grandma and Grandpa's.

Filling the bird feeders.

Sharing a cute moment with Grandpa.

Found an Easter egg!

Easter duds.

Holding pattern

I thought Si was forgetting to bring home our back-up hard drive but it turns out that he has been bringing it home. He just hasn't told me. I was also under the impression that anything computer related was his job, but apparently backing up the pictures is my job. With the hard drive I didn't know was here. So, still no pictures. Sorry.


In other news...we signed Alison up for kindergarten. She will be going to school all day, every day come fall. Pretty amazing. I can't believe how time is flying by. It's going to be hard to be without her every afternoon, but school gets done at 2:45. Hopefully she'll get in the car and be full of stories about her day. I'm excited for her and hope that I will be able to let go with as much grace and dignity as I can muster. That is, I'm going to try very hard not to by a big, blubbering mess her first day of school.