Rain + Sick Mama + 3 Energetic Kids = VLM

"TURTLE!!!"

L wanted to try to be a real turtle...and it reminded me that we used to call L "Turtle" when he was a baby because we both thought he looked like one...a cute, less reptile-y turtle...

I heard we are supposedly the most intelligent creatures on Earth...just don't check these videos out for proof...

Mikey joins the fun (he refused to take his hat/coat off)

Buzz makes his leap off the log...M tries to bludgeon another kid with a stuffed possum (not a real possum, a toy)

As I've already mentioned, I was sick last week and flying solo for 4 days (which were, naturallly, the rainy/sick Mama days)....you may know this already, but you can only keep 3 children safely in a small house on rainy days for so long.  They have boundless energy, so I've learned it's best to find a fun activity to do in the afternoons where they burn off a lot of that energy store.  Safely.  With minimal bruising.  We started going to Chick-fil-a because they have a great indoor playground and fruit on the menu that we can order so that we merit entrance to the awesome playground (also, their staff is weirdly friendly and helpful for a fast food joint...or really for an American business of any sort these days).  That sounds okay, I guess...but sometimes the idea of all the germs crawling on the floor gets to me (and frequenting any fast food joint no matter how nice the employees creeps me out, to be honest...even if we don't eat the fries/chicken very often...I don't want them to have too many happy childhood memories set in a fast food place's indoor "gym" with the scent of chicken permeating everything)...anyhoo...eventually we go back to our old standby (but this only on days when I am up to sprinting after them for 2 hours as we race from one activity to another...and usually I am, so it works out), the Living Museum.  I think we've been 3 or 4 times in the last week or so.  We always learn something new and we always have a blast watching all the animals.

I came up with a new game when Anna demanded I play with her at the Log near one of the exploring stations...I decided I would pretend to be a hibernating bear.  Don't take these kids to the woods any time soon because they have absolutely no respect for hibernating bears if their response to my game was any indication.  They crawled all over me, kneeing me in the head, and slapping my face until I responded.  I get no respect.  But I think they could tell that I was just trying to sneak in some nap time because I was still just getting over the Ague (I am reading Edith Wharton and trying to work in some great, archaic words so that I: A. Sound educated beyond kindergarten and B. Use my brain/memory for a little while each day. Ague is just the beginning....soon will come "probity" and "fervid" and ohh...Edith Wharton has opened the door on all these words that are succinct and beautiful but that nobody bothers to use anymore...and I'm not doing it to impress anyone, really...it just seems like a shame that they are neglected in this age of "LOL" and "OMG" and "Super!"...uh oh...I think I can see myself age here...)
It's late, I better go to bed...

Breakfast of Champions...

"I'm Woody, Mama..." from Toy Story...get your mind out of the gutter....

Bed head...and a little groggy still...

Buzz Lightyear shows us his wingspan over french toast and smoothies...

I can't remember why she was mad...

It was a long two weeks and now I can't remember why...last week for two days I was fairly sick.  I think I just had a virus or a mild flu or something, but it actually gave me a fever.  I'm not sure why this is, but most Moms I know don't really get sick too often and it always shocks and angers us when we are momentarily hindered.  It's funny how your life gets when you have young children....I have definitely stopped paying so much attention to myself that I didn't even realize I wasn't feeling well until I put the kids to bed and I kept wondering if our furnace wasn't working because I was so cold.  Then I noticed my throat wasn't just dry, it was very, very sore.  And I had aches all over.  I know, right?  Quit whining...but the point is, I didn't even realize I felt bad until it was quiet...that is how much these little monkeys take over your life, your energy, and your concentration.  So, I was only really down and out for one day...I was lucky!  I skipped my gym sessions and spent some time on the couch in the AM reading books to the little ones while Luke was at school...occasionally I'd doze off and wake up to the twins attempting to "give me medicine" (this is where they grab all their wooden food jars from their play kitchen and smash them onto my unprotected and unsuspecting head because they are doctors) or give me a check-up (this is where they take their plastic doctor's kit and alternately stab me in the eye, ear, mouth, and throat with various implements).  Then they pronounce me in good health and run off to create a mess or terrorize each other while I am too feeble to get up and stop them.  Hooray for TVs!  Also for toddlers who actually nap!!!
I survived, so I will definitely stop my belly-aching.  Anyhoo, I don't know when these pictures were taken...but they were funny, so I thought I'd post them.  You might imagine that meal times are not exactly quiet moments where we share news and catch up on each other's days...no, it's more like a time to shout at each other over who gets to be various Toy Story characters or different types of whales or trucks.  The children are constantly dreaming up different scenarios in which they save the day, defeat the bad guys, and irritate the crap out of their siblings.  I notice that the twins gang up a lot on Luke...and that poor sensitive guy he is, he takes them seriously and sometimes things end up in yelling (me) and tears (L).  But anyhoo...I digress.  I really hate it when I go places to eat and people are popping out of their seats and climbing under tables and throwing food and generally acting like the squirrel monkeys you see at the zoo, so I am determined to make meal times full of kindness, good food, and chewing with your mouth closed.  They really aren't too bad (for monkeys)...and we're definitely getting better.  You can come over any time you like ;-)

"Hee-yaw! Ride 'em, Cow-guhl!"

That's Ms. Anna's favorite phrase of late (that, and, "I don't like that!  I'm gonna put you in JAIL!" which is what she says whenever someone displeases her.  I don't even know where she found out about jail...I can't think of a book or show or anything where she could have learned it.  Maybe from her older brother???) because we dove into the Toy Story movies while they were sick for 2 weeks earlier in the month.  Her favorite of all characters has been Jessie, the cow-girl (although there was a brief, 3-day run where she insisted I call her "Big Woody" which was slightly embarassing in public places).  Tonight, we watched half of Toy Story 2, which seems to be L and A's favorite, because F was gone to a work function (after spending 4 days in Las Vegas) and A was bummed out big time that Daddy left her for the evening.

Mike requests help with his "sea turtle"

I should mention that we went to part of the work function (which was a retirement ceremony followed by a dinner that it was best the wee Marstons didn't attend)...arriving late, as usual.  Anna was dressed in her cow, of course.  The funniest part of the story is that at one point, I let my guard down and allowed myself to attempt to have a real conversation with another adult...you may imagine that this meant that I blindly trusted that L was at the snack table, gorging on pepperoni slices and that M was indeed with his father.  Tap, tap, tap...a friend said, "You might want to check on your son because he is out at the volleyball court...swimming."  Did I forgot to mention that we have had quite a lot of rain lately?  And that rain tends to pool up on sandy volleyball courts if said courts' sand has completely packed down?  There he was, kneeling in the huge puddle, happily splashing away in his wind pants, hiking boots, and winter coat.  I don't pack an extra pair of pants for him as a rule, but I certainly will from now on.  At the same time, M was semi-squatting at the snack table, with that look of quiet determination/concentration that sends convulsions of fear and apprehension in every parent's heart...but I got him to the bathroom in time.  Why aren't we asked to go to more adult/official functions, I wonder?  Could it be because Anna-pants likes to sing her ABC's in the middle of the "attention to orders" citation-reading part?  Perhaps.  Or it could be that by the end, someone is muddy and someone else has crapped their pants.  There are so many possible answers that question.

Anyhow...these videos where shot at the Living Museum, a Marston family favorite...and I thought it captured Anna's spirit quite well.  She is not wearing her cow-suit only because she wore it the day before and it was in the wash.  Miraculously, she picked out clothes with colors that coordinated rather than clashed.  I had a blast with the kids...and we've been having some really good times lately.  I was about to say that it was getting easier....then we went to another appointment at the school we were considering for L next year with the two hooligans in tow and umm...revised that statement.  I am rarely bored, you might say...I think the way she pronounces her Jessie-isms is so cute...especially in her high pitched voice.  Enjoy (and be glad you don't have it on repeat as I do here during all waking hours)....

L's 5 minutes on the Court...for skills assessment...

Round One: Dribbling

Round Two: Dribbling

Round 3: Defensive Shuffle (ie: Galloping)

We signed L up for Basketball at the Y.  Today was the skills assesment.  Umm...L never really played before, so there wasn't too much to actually assess.  He did better at dribbling (I will have to start working on that, I believe) today than last weekend when he tried to practice with F (I use the word "tried" loosely) for exactly 5 minutes and then declared he was too tired (he really was).  Anyhoo...they did some shooting a tthe hoop...they had him start in the center, than to each side of the hoop, and at each position, he got 3 tries.  He did not make a basket, but he did throw the ball in its general direction.   At one point, he looked at the coach and said, "Hey!  They need to lower that down!" but not out frustration, just kind of like, "I know what the problem is...the net is TOO HIGH!"  I should have filmed his passing, catching, and bounce passing because he totally rocked it!  And then the defensive shuffle was more like a bunny galloping with its hands up to protect his face, but he had fun.  Also, I dont really think he stopped chattering once.  He liked it though, especially the defensive shuffle, so he was doing that down the hallway to Child Watch.  F is an assistant coach (which should be interesting due to his work schedule)...they'll have practice one night a week (and by night, they mean it as practice for 4&5 year olds starts at 6:30 pm!!!!  6:30 pm!!!!  I am afraid of what this will mean for sleep and family harmony, but it's only once a week, right?  How bad could it be, ultimately (stay tuned, we're all about to find out).  F said that most of the kids L's age are really, really good...so we'll see how L deals with it.

On another note, L came home the other day to tell me that learned some yoga at school (hooray for Hippie Preschool/Kindergarten) to include the "down-turn dog, Mom."  His sport of choice is soccer and he is actually really good at it.  I know he's got some athletic ability, it's just a matter of drawing it out and keeping his interest in a game that does not feature saving whales or driving a truck.  Enjoy the videos!

You must read this book...

It's been a while since I've stayed up all night reading a book (well, a couple months at least), but last night I couldn't put down a parenting memoir that has touched off a lot of controversy here in the United States.   By turns harrowing, and hilarious, but always totally honest, "Battle Hymn of The Tiger Mother," by Yale law professor, Amy Chua, is about the challenges the author has faced bringing up two daughters as a "Chinese mother" here in the United States .  Lest you think it is limited strictly by geography and/or culture, the author's term, "Chinese mother," simply signifies a parent (of either sex) who believes that the goal of childhood is to instill the fortitude, self-discipline, and capacity to break your back working hard to excel academically and/or musically so that he/she will have a the drive to break his/her back (well...most likely his/her intellect as the goal of the Chinese mother is to have children who are elite professionals: doctors, lawyers, or professors of some science-related subject) working for the rest of his/her life (but also soaring to great heights in his/her chosen field).  This is done by commandeering the offspring's childhood and filling it primarily with hours of: 1. Studying and/or 2. Practicing A Musical Instrument.  It is a childhood filled with work designed to lead to an adult life distinguished by work.  Nowhere in the Chinese mother's philosophy is there a concern for either fun or protecting a child's feelings and/or self-esteem.
Which is precisely why it has been poorly received here in the United States where we go to great (and in my view, artificial) lengths to make sure our kids "feel good" about themselves and have lots of fun.  We are a nation of people who see no problem with installing TVs in our kids' rooms, letting them play video games for hours on end, and signing them up for a soccer league where nobody keeps score so "nobody's feelings will be hurt."  Also, we, as parents, want to be friends with our kids, we want them to like us, right?  Now, I don't agree with Chua's methods entirely (and I think if you continue through the hardest parts for Westerners to accept...forcing one's child to practice violin/piano for 5-6 hours a day, biting assessments of a child's abilities and efforts, etc you will find she comes to question at least part of what she did), I found myself agreeing with a lot what she says (although not with how she said it, perhaps).
So many of the episodes were familiar to me...the scene where she forces her younger daughter to stay at the piano for hours and hours without letting her eat or drink so that she can master a particularly difficult piece.  My mother is from Japan, so I have first-hand experience with the "Chinese mother."  We were the only American kids who had to go to Soroban school (Japanese abacus school) twice a week after school, we had workbooks we had to do every day that she made up filled with math problems (in addition to our homework and even in the summer, we had to spend 2 hours doing math problems), we were assigned books to read and given notebooks in which to write the definitions of words we didn't know.  If I brought home an A- (a rare occasion in the lower grades), my mother was aghast.  You get the idea.  Now, as most American daughters with first-generation immigrant mothers, we had serious communication issues.  The whole time she was doing this, demanding perfection from me, I thought she was saying, "This A- wasn't good enough for me."  As an adult, I figured out (through reading about my particular mother/daughter situation) that what she was trying to say was, "That A- isn't good enough for you."  It got lost in the culture divide, however and took me years to translate in a way that wasn't painful.
When I went on to have my own children, I had pretty much rejected all of my mother's parenting techniques because they seemed overly heartless and cruel.  Plus, in my case, she'd lost her momentum by the time I was in middle school and became almost uninterested in pushing me academically any longer, so the "Chinese mothering" I received was ultimately very uneven.  As Chua notes in her book in several places, it is very, very emotionally taxing to be a Chinese mother because you have to devote yourself to your child and it will guarantee that you meet with a lot of resistance from the child, and the mainstream culture.  In the face of all this, my mother simply gave up.

Anyhoo...I am getting distracted by my own history.  In short, I thought this book was totally fascinating because it highlights what most American parents are afraid to admit, but which Asian parents seem to totally get:  Hard work is the ticket to excellence.  It isn't an artificially generated high self-esteem (ie. one produced in an environment where the parent has removed any strife or failure).  It isn't natural ability and it isn't luck.  Well, there is a requirement for both of those things, but the most successful people on the planet got that way mostly because they were willing to work harder and longer than everyone else.  And while they were working hard, they didn't necessarily have a good time.  They were too busy working hard with their nose to the grindstone to care about having a good time or feeling good about themselves.  And yes, they ended up having a great self-esteem because: 1. It takes a lot of confidence to begin with to believe that if you try hard enough, you can become a well-respected doctor/lawyer/scientist when you are working as a dishwasher in a Chinese restaurant because you can't speak English, and, 2. As you achieve the goals and become more and more successful, you can't help but feel good about yourself.  Here is an argument I found especially compelling from the book:

"What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you're good at it.  To get good at anything you  have to work, and children on their own never want to work, which is why it is crucial to override their preferences.  This often requires fortitude on the part of the parents because the child will resist...Tenacious practice, practice, practice is crucial for excellence; rote repetition is underrated in America.  Once a child starts to excel at something -whether it is math, piano, pitching, or ballet - he or she gets praise, admiration, and satisfaction.  This builds confidence and makes the once not-fun activity fun.  This in turn makes it easier for the parent get the child to work even more."  -Amy Chua, "The Battle Hymn of A Tiger Mother"

Are you thinking, "Over-ride their preference!?!  That sounds controlling and scary and...harsh (not to mention downright un-American)"???  I know.  It is almost an alien concept in this society.  But I have to admit, I see its truth.  I wouldn't say that my children are lazy...because they'll all work like the dickens doing stuff they like or are naturally good at or interested in.  Ask L to learn facts about whales or build towers or draw trucks or learn addition and he's all focus and energy.  Tell him to spend an hour writing the letter "s" and the reaction is markedly different.  When faced with an unfamiliar and difficult task, most human beings are inclined to avoid it, not to seek it out so they can devote hours of their free time to boring, tedious practicing until they finally master it.  But the ability to endure such practice is the key to success.  And the Chinese mother pushes her children so hard because she believes so strongly in her child's ability, strength, and potential.  As my mother used to say, "If you accept failure, you will fail."
However, as the author notes, there is a down-side to all this pushing, right?  The pressure can backfire.  You don't have too look to far to hear stories of Japanese teenagers jumping off buildings because they didn't get into the right school or Japanese kindergartners developing ulcers because they are already worried about getting into the right college.  Which is why Americans tend to be horrified by the stereo-typical Chinese mother.  I don't know though...this is what I have been chewing on the past day and a half or so.  Push too hard and you raise joyless automatons who have unrealistically high demands of themselves (and are prone to self-harm when they can't reach that bar), but don't push enough and you have kids who slide through life, half-assing their homework so they can spend hours on Facebook and YouTube.  Where is the middle ground, I wonder?  I want to raise happy kids, of course.  But I also want to raise kids who can and will work hard, kids who can and will sacrifice their free time so that they can put forth their best efforts, regardless of the final grade.  I want kids who have passion, but also kids who can take some punishment to perform at their highest possible level.  (I see an epidemic of entitlement among today's young people and it troubles me...because you have to earn your success, it isn't something you should have just because you are a relatively nice person.)
I think it is a question of tone and moderation.  You can be gentle, but firm.  You can say no when your child says soccer is too hard, he/she wants to quit, but then volunteer an hour or two a day to help him/her hone their skills.  I believe there is a way to foster a healthy work ethic (but more importantly, resilience), but I haven't worked out all the particulars.  I know I want to be kinder to my children than Chua's stereotypical Chinese mother, but I'd like to be as steadfast and firm.  I'd like to be more nurturing, but just as inflexible at accepting what I know is not my child's absolute best effort.  Nobody ever excelled because they accepted their own limitations.

There is so much in this book I could talk about.  I found it to be extremely thought-provoking.  And I heartily recommend it to any parent.  Everything about it is controversial...and to be clear, I do not agree with bullying children nor do I think it is good to be negative or nasty to them.  But an honest, clear assessment of the effort they put into their academic careers by their own parents is sadly under-rated in our culture, I think.  There is a place for constructive criticism in the parent/child relationship (even if it will hurt their feelings a little) as long as it leads to a joint effort to overcome the challenges a child faces.  We do nobody any favors when we help our children avoid their own failures.  I could go on and on, but I shouldn't being that the children have been clamoring for my attention through this entire post and that dinner has yet to be made.  I heartily recommend this read to anyone who wants to be challenged in their parenting philosophy (and who doesn't mind being a little uncomfortable for a little while)...especially if that someone has an extremely open and forgiving mind....read to the end and I don't think you'll be sorry you did.

We make good impressions on people...

Andre Agassi stopped by our house the other night...





Chocolate-banana crepes for breakfast!

If they aren't good impressions, they are at least memorable.  Take last Sunday, for instance.  I was sort of stuck between a rock and a hard place because there was an open house at a very good private school in this area.  We've been researching alternatives to the public school we are zoned for and we hit on this school.  We really wanted to go to this open house to get a better feel for the school, but as you may recall from an earlier post, F had to stay at work all weekend and the kids had those colds with the on/off again fevers.  Which made them grumpy.  As Jane Austen might have written if she'd had children, "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a mother in possession of children, must be in need of a nanny."  Or a decent nap for said children.  Especially when you have pressing social engagements that require your children to be well-behaved and good-natured.
Of course, it is also universally acknowledged that children seem to have a sixth sense for those times when their parents are most in need of their cooperation, patience and good will.  Just to show you that you are really not in control of much, they pick that day to revolt.  Well, maybe not all children do this, and perhaps if they do, it is merely coincidence and not a conspiracy, but I have a hard time there isn't some nefarious plot afoot in my household, at least.  First, L woke up at 5:15 am.  Then we slogged through a morning full of tantrums from kids who were sleep-deprived and disgruntled.  I tried to coax the wee ones into taking an early nap to no avail.  So, in the end, the kids slept for like 45 minutes (M) to an hour (A) when they usually sleep for 2 to 2 1/2 hours.  L doesn't really nap anymore.  You might think that common sense kicked in and I scrapped the whole plan.  Dear Reader, you know me better than that now, don't you?
Of course I forged ahead, armed with my insane optimism and my determination not to have a life not dictated by the bad moods/colds/lack of sleep of my offspring.  So, we went to the school and the first thing we see besides the friendly and overly helpful staff of the school is a huge snack table laden with heaps of sugary treats and delicate white paper napkins emblazoned with the school's logo fanned out prettily on a white table cloth.  L rushed towards it, managing only to snag one napkin before I collared him and hauled him back to the name-tag table.  Not being a total idiot, I attempted to extort good behavior from my kids with promises of brownies.
We were paired up with a quiet, well-behaved preschooler and her father for the tour (I don't know if I'm being overly dramatic, but he didn't seem too thrilled at sharing his experience with us)...and first stop, preschool room!  Quickly, the kids fanned out, playing with the plastic tools/workbench and the table filled with Styrofoam "popcorn" and various measuring cups.  As the teacher launches into an explanation of her curriculum, A announces she has to go to the bathroom.  I tried to get the boys to come with me to the bathroom, but they were too enthralled by the toys, so the tour guide (who was an 11th grade English teacher) offered to watch while I escorted A.  When we got back and the preschool teacher was talking about teaching methods, I noticed M quietly grunting by the Lego table.  Yep, you guessed it.  He crapped his pants.  Again, the other two children wouldn't come while I dragged him into the girl's bathroom to clean him up.  I ended up just tossing his underpants in the trash (I know, I know, this violates so many rules of proper bio hazard waste disposal, but I was under duress!), whipping out a clean pair, and hustling back to the preschool room.
We saw the first grade room and I attempted to have an intelligent conversation with the 1st grade teacher (I'm afraid I couldn't think of any relevant questions to ask) while A shrieked in the hallway, M tried to play with a ceramic penguin (thereby threatening its existence) and L went through the children's desks and pulled various bulletins off the walls.  I could tell it was time for us to leave. 
I really, really wanted to have some answers for F when I talked to him later, so I persisted, dragging them all into the lower school Principal's office to hear him explain their educational philosophy.  The other parents and their (quiet and calm) children sat in their chairs while mine played an obnoxious version of musical chairs until I picked up Anna and she noticed that I had a name tag, but she did not.  Tantrum!  I was sweating and thoroughly embarrassed and finally understood this was not the right time for us.
I tried to leave, muttering something about making an appointment for my husband to see the school at a later date.  They stopped me in the lobby and took me back to the secretary so that I could make the appointment that very day and that is when the real embarrassment took place. 
It should have been quick and easy.  I should have been able to fill out the info card quickly and nail down a date while my children waited patiently on the couch in the lady's office.  And it did start out relatively calmly....until L whipped out that damn paper napkin.  Anna saw it, Michael saw it.  It was as if he'd held up the Hope Diamond.  Cue the pummeling, kicking, wrestling, yelling, hair pulling battle for The Napkin.  Seriously, it happened over a Napkin.  A Napkin!!!!  (As a side note, I was struck by the thought that if human beings are willing to bludgeon their siblings with decorative pillows over a disposable, paper napkin, it might be reaching for the stars to assume there will ever be peace in the Middle East.  Of course in this case, the human beings involved aren't rational beings in the least.)  In case you are wondering, it is really difficult to think of anything else when your children are fighting in a school administrator's office.  I had trouble reciting my address and phone number.  I almost gave my maiden name.  I ended up barking out tersely that I would call later and that we had to go.
As I dragged the kids down the hallway (while Anna threw another fit because she wanted to drink from the water fountain & L kept trying to open the lockers we passed), I could feel my heart racing and my face flushing.  I hissed to L in that tone all mothers use while their offspring misbehave in public, "You think you're getting a brownie!  You must have lost your mind!"  Cue Tantrum Number Two.  The problem with trying to drag your kids out to the car in the winter time is that you do have to pause so that you can put all their winter coats back on them (although I considered picking A up like a football and lugging everyone out there without stopping).  There is no expedient getaway. 
The ladies in the lobby tried to help me as I dressed my howling children...in order to distract and calm him, one said to L, "Oh, sweetie!  Why don't you go get a treat from the table while Mommy gets your brother ready."  I saw L's little eyes widen as if he were a convict with a lifetime sentence and someone just suggested he may be paroled.  This is the quandary we all face at some point:  Do I stand firm and spark another hysterical and horribly embarrassing fit or do I give in to keep the peace so that I might walk out of this public place looking like a semi-credible parent?  I chose to stand firm.  So I said through clenched teeth as I was wrestling M into his coat (it was akin to to stuffing a squid into a sausage casing as he'd gone limp in protest), "Actually, he's not allowed to have a treat."  Immediately, Luke let out a loud, piercing wail that literally stopped everyone on that side of the building in their tracks.  Then he shouted, "YOU MADE ME MAD AT YOU, MOM!" And then he hit me.  Or rather, he wound up, then tapped me lightly on the forearm.  Which is aggressive for L.  Anna, realizing that she would not be getting chocolate either, joined in the ear-drum shattering screaming while throwing herself on the facedown on the floor in Sadness and Despair.
I can safely say that it was my most mortifying parenting moment.  In the end, I gritted my teeth and dragged the kids (literally) across the parking lot and roughly strapped them into their seats.  I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide.  And maybe not come back out.  Ever.  Or at least until they went to college.  We were all crying in that van that afternoon.  It was worse than when the kids have thrown horrible tantrums in a store because this is a school we may want Luke to attend.  And I doubt they'll ever forget us (well, at least not the secretary).  Which would be great if the thoughts she had while seeing us interact in her office were "Wow, what a loving family!" or, "What a precocious and sweet little boy!"  instead of, "What the hell is wrong with that mother! Why can't she control her children???"
I am sure she wasn't thinking those things(although it seems that so many people I meet in public DO have those thoughts and sometimes voice them impolitely to me) because she seemed very, very nice.  Perhaps she was sympathetic to me, I did get the impression she was compassionate (as was all the rest of the staff).  Maybe in this down economy, they can't alienate anyone who might opt to pay their tuition  as long as they pass the intellectual screening (even if their children behave like starving, wild monkeys let loose in a grocery store).  This week I received an informational letter from the school with a nice handwritten note from the secretary that didn't include any admonishing comments about the (mis)behavior of our dear children, so I suppose I can hope for the best on that one.
I had to write this down so that I wouldn't forget this particular episode (I am constantly forgetting things that were so humiliating and/or significant that I thought they'd be burned in my brain forever, proving either that I'm becoming prematurely senile or that childrearing destroys brain cells).  I'll have this record, in case I forget that the children once attempted to kill each other over a freaking napkin.  I'll let you know if we do apply and if L gets in.  Which I'm sure he will despite our showing at the open house.

Buzz Lightyear to the Rescue!

A screening of Toy Story 3 on Day 13 of Marston Twin Sickness...

The boys were in various stages of wrestling while Anna was in various stages of disapproval...

L has a new alter-ego/obsession, "Buzz Lightyear".  Mikey is Slinky Dog and Anna is Big Woody.  And they call Daddy Ham.  I am either Andy, Woody's Mom, or Jessie.

2011 has brought a cold that turned into a sinus infection (Anna) or an ear infection (Mikey) that has lasted the whole year (all 13 days of it thus far)!  It feels like F has been rather busy at work...he had alert (don't be alarmed, it just means he is sitting around on stand-by, but not because anything is imminent) for 5 days and then he's had a strange and unpredictable work schedule this week.  Basically, we haven't seen much of him for the past two weeks or so.  Maybe week and a half (he'd want me to stop being so dramatic about his work schedule...he feels he doesn't get as much credit as he deserves)...in typing all that, I have totally forgotten why I started this post to begin with.
I finally broke down and took the kids to the doctor...I'm not really one to put my kids on antibiotics, plus I've had children for long enough now to realize that most of what they get are colds brought on by exposure to viruses (see, Mikey!  Licking the mirror under the check-out stand at Target does have consequences, dammit!  I TOLD YOU SO!), so basically, you drag your tired, snotty, miserable kid into the exam room so that he/she can scream at the top of his/her lungs only to be told that "it will just have to run its course.  Make sure he/she gets plenty of fluids and rest."  So, anyhow, I resisted bringing them in because while they were cranky and tired and had a fever, they didn't have any particularly troubling symptoms.  However, when a fever lasts that long, you know something is up...so I took them to see their doctor (and as expected, Anna screamed like he was peeling her skin off her body with a veggie peeler...thereby prompting Mikey to scream through HIS exam, even though he'd been happily reading a magazine up to that point).  They finally have drugs and today is the first day their fevers are totally gone, hooray!  Finally!
As it turns out, I am not a person who is meant to be cooped up in a house with three kids under the age of 6 (is there a person who was meant for such a fate?).  I need to exercise, I need to get moving...so it was tough for me to deal with it, even though I had plenty of work to do cleaning up all the accidents M had (the fever totally made him give up on even trying to make it to the potty).  Thankfully, the kiddos were entertained by Toy Story 2 and 3 this week...and let me just say, they should warn parents about TS3 because I sobbed like a baby at the end of it.  Or not like a baby as none of mine were crying.  I pictured them all growing up, going to college, etc and the waterworks could not be controlled.  They all looked at me like I had lost my mind (which I am fairly certain wandered away on Day 7 of Being Stuck Indoors With Demanding, Sick Children.  It hasn't returned yet to my knowledge.)
I was teary all night last night...prompting L to inquire why I was crying.  So I told him, "You know, someday, you're going to grow up and go to college.  Sometimes I wish you could stay little forever."  He hugged me and said, earnestly, "Oh, Mama.  I hope your wish comes true.  I want to live with you forever."  I love him.  A sweeter boy there never was.  I realize my extremely emotional response to this animated movie might be excessive as 15 minutes after it ended, Mikey soiled his pants.  If your kids can't make it to the toilet to do their business, you probably don't have to start crying about them heading off to college, right?  It must have weighed heavily on L's mind, however, because at breakfast, he asked F if he would be able to bring his toys to college.
I should add as well, that now L is inspired to do all of Buzz Lightyear's antics.  He is constantly rolling, flipping, leaping off furniture (even at 6:30 am which I am sure amuses our neighbors to no end) inside the house.  Perhaps I should start taking bets on how long it will take him to break a bone.  Or break a sibling's bone.  Let me know if you are interested...

Bicuspid Aortic Valves Make Us Sad!!!

I got this off a website, I hope I don't get sued...

I haven't really been thinking of Luke's heart.  And maybe I should have been, a least a little bit more than I was because he has had a pronounced murmur since he was born (well, probably since before he was born, but they caught it during his initial screening).  We've had to see pediatric cardiologists pretty regularly since he was born (and herein lies his intense fear and suspicion of doctor visits).  The visits are pretty intensive, not painful at all, but they frighten him nonetheless.  He has to do the normal blood pressure, height, weight, oxygen content in blood.  Then they have to do an EKG and then he has to go into a room where they do ultrasounds of his heart so that they can measure all the chambers and the amount of blood that leaks back into his left ventricle.
Okay, back up, right?  Because I never explained why he has the heart murmur to begin with.  He was born with a Bicuspid Aortic Valve...your aortic valve has three leaflets that work together to open and close the valve and therefore regulate blood flow to the aorta.  Two of his fused together before birth.  So there is a gap between the two fused leaflets and the normal one.  Which causes blood to leak back down into the ventricle, which causes the ventricle to have an increased blood volume all the time, but also causes it to try to pump harder.  At our appointment yesterday (to which I showed up covered in Mikey's blood, more on that later), I was told that while he is still very healthy and not feeling any ill effects of the abnormal valve, both the ventricle and the narrow part of the aorta that leads from the aortic valve to the actual aorta then out into the body have dilated.  Expanded.  This is bad because eventually, as the ventricle has to try to pump more blood out of itself all the time, the muscle walls will thicken, but become less effective at pumping.

The doctor asked us to come back in 6 months so he can have a better idea of the rate of dilation, but said that he thinks that we will need to put L on some kind of heart medication to try to curb the expansion of both the narrower part of the aorta and the ventricle.  He mentioned words like beta blockers and two other drugs that I didn't write down and so now I don't remember, but he also said they all come with side effects and we'd discuss them at the later appt.  Now, I was floored.  And crabby (all 3 kids at a cardiologist, thank heaven they have Diego movies!).  The key, above all, said this cardiologist, is to try to prolong the amount of time before Luke has a valve replacement surgery.  Because artificial valves don't grow with children, you have to keep replacing them as they grow.  But he said emphatically that eventually he would have to have surgery and once he started meds for his heart (even before surgery), he would likely have to stay on some kind of heart meds for the rest of his life (after valve replacement, you have to stay on anti-coagulants forever).
All of this sounded strange because we are used to going to the appts, having them say, "Yup, it's gotten a little worse, but not badly enough for it to affect him. Come back next year!"  We'd been told initially most people who have this condition don't usually have it addressed until they are adults (and by adults, one cardiologist said, he meant like 40s or 50s).  Sometimes they don't even know they have it until they are in their 20s or 30s.  I am an staunch optimist when it comes to the kids (though a pragmatist in most other areas, like F's work schedule), so I latched right onto the best case scenario and never looked back.
So: beta blockers floored me.  We'd already been told that he shouldn't participate in impact sports like football or motorcross (which is fine by me!), but hadn't realized it was because people with BAV tend to have weaker aortas than normal...in further reading last night, we discovered that it is because BAV has been linked to a connective tissue disease which causes the aorta to be more prone to aneurysm and/or rupture (not a serious concern, not enough to treat L like a person with a weak heart, but something to consider if he is doing especially dangerous and might fall on his chest).
Now, I must say that I have been reminding myself of all the parents everywhere whose children have serious, life-threatening, and even fatal diseases and conditions...parents whose kids are terminal or incurable.  I know that and I am really grateful that this seems to be, as F put it last night, "Just something we'll deal with."  Medical technology is so amazing, especially in the cardiology field.  I am trying to keep it in perspective, truly I am, because there is so much to be thankful for in L's case.  But I was sad all day yesterday, thinking of my boy and his heart that doesn't quite work the right way.  His heart that is  not quite good enough for him.  I felt a little betrayed by that damn valve (but I don't want to put it down because I don't want it to get mad at me and start obstructing blood flow (stenosis), which is an issue he definitely doesn't have at this time).  I wanted to say, "The agreement was you'd work well enough to avoid any treatment until he was fully-grown!" 
I'm thinking of L a little bit differently now, while knowing that I can't treat him differently or hover or protect him more without screwing up his childhood even more than I already am, abnormal heart valves aside.  I think of that heart pumping in the darkness of his little body, how I haven't been worried about it, or wondered if it was doing its job.  I took it for granted.  Then I think of all the things you have to trust, the millions of little cogs in the wheel of Life we don't monitor (because we can't, but also because we shouldn't), all the routine movements that have to happen on every second of every day, over which we have absolutely no control, whose demise could have a great and/or terrible impact on us. 
The lack of control.  It is the hardest fact of being a parent.  You have these people you love more than life itself, more than you'll ever love anything else; the people who have actually made your capacity to love greater by just by existing...and then you have to accept that you cannot protect them very much at all.  I would give him my bicuspid aortic valve if I could, you know.  So he could have every door open to him, every possibility available.  (They can't do surgery to repair the flaps on L because in his case, it would do more damage to the valve than it could repair, although it does work in some cases, when the person with the BAV doesn't have to have it addressed until he/she is an adult.)

F thinks I am being overly dramatic and maybe I am.  Or maybe I am feeling the things a mother feels when you see your child have any kind of struggle.  I'm not sure.  I was reading about all the valve replacement possibilities (would he like a mechanical one?  one from a cow?  Or a sheep? or a pig?) and what my mind was saying, "But I want him to just have a normal human valve!  I don't him to do any of this stuff, it's too scary."  But, as F says again (and significantly less emotionally than I have been over the last day or so), "We will play the cards we are dealt. And make the best choices we can make."  Don't worry, there is no self-pity here...it's not a feeling of "why is this happening to me?"  Why does it happen to anyone?  It is genetic in our case, some dangerous DNA lurking in our blood (probably my blood as my family has had heart disease issues).  It's just a feeling of, "Yup, it has to happen to someone, so why can't I be the one with the crappy valve??? He can have my healthy one!"  But then you have to let it go because wishful thinking doesn't change a thing.  Counter-productive and all that.  Irritating to one's husband in the least.
So now we wait six months and go back and do it all again to see what they say about it.  If you'd like to look at bicuspid aortic valves (or normal ones) here is a good, succinct article:
http://www.livestrong.com/article/218140-what-are-the-treatments-for-bicuspid-aortic-valve/

Also, here is where the Marston-ness comes into our day:  we pulled into the parking garage at the Navy Hospital where L had his appt.  As I am in the back, unbuckling Anna (I freed the boys first), L hops out of the car and heads towards the garage wall in front of the car.  I panicked, as people drive like idiots in a hospital parking garage, so I try to lean out of the car to tell L to come back closer to the car before someone pulls into the empty space beside us, doesn't see him, and flattens him.  In my haste, I didn't see that M was standing directly behind me and was about ready to jump out of the car.  I knock him off balance, he lands flat on his face on the concrete.  Blood.  Everywhere.  Think of an Old Faithful of Blood gushing all over him and me.  I pick him up, trying to comfort him and staunch the blood flow.  He refuses to allow me to do it.  But since it has taken us 10 minutes of driving up 5 floors of parking garage, we have to get walking to the cardiologist's office.  So there I am, holding Bloody Mikey in one arm, trying to hold a wipe to his nose with the other, towing L (who is holding onto the strap of my bag) and Anna (who is holding on to L) through the parking lot.  A concerned Marine rushed over and asked if we were okay.  And you know the blood is serious if the Marines stop to assist you.  As we lumbered through the corridors, people gave us a wide berth (one man even said, "Wow!  She brought a horde!"  How did he know?)
So, we show up at the clinic and the receptionist says, "Ooooh....you have blood on your face" while handing me a tissue.  And Mikey is still sniffling repeating, "I fell on my face, Mom."  And L is proclaiming emphatically that he DOES NOT WANT TO BE HERE TO GET SHOTS! No matter how many times I try to reassure him it is not that kind of appointment....after a few minutes, M was up and running around and then on the way home, he started saying, "I fell on my face, Mom" over and over again.  So I said, "I know, I am so sorry, sweetie!  I didn't meant to knock you over!"  And he laughed and said, "No, I singing my song, Mama!  It goes: I drive a green tractor/I FELL ON MY FACE/I drive a steam roller/I FELL ON MY FACE/I drive a power shovel/I FELL ON MY FACE!!!"
Poor Mike, too...because later we went to the park and L was kicking a bucket swing.  I said, "Luke, that is too wild around the other kids.  Don't do that!"  He ran past the swing, then reached around and swung it as hard as a 5 year old could.  Right into Mikey's face.  The face with the swollen/bloody nose and the road rash on his lips.  Knocked the poor dude over backwards.  Seriously!  Here is poor M's face at the end of the day:

Mikey, the prize fighter...

Anyhoo...now I've spent the first 40 minutes of the morning writing this post, so I'd better get cracking on breakfast.  Just keep this in your head:  Luke is fine.  He's doing great.  And his condition is treatable.  And his mom is neurotic so she worries a lot. (Also, I am suspicious of medicine, so I am sad he might eventually be put on really powerful drugs with some considerable side effects for the rest of his life.)  But life is good here...and we have much to be thankful for....to include french toast for breakfast, so I'd better stop typing so I might deliver on that particular promise.

Snow Man Videos...(turn down your volume or Anna will make your ear drums burst)

Meet our New Addition....

With our new buddy (who lasted one day)...he has a piece of ginger for a nose, my sunglasses and some goldfish buttons...oh, and a stick for a mouth...plus my beach hat...

Diego Cetacean Marston in all his glory....

On Friday, New Year's Eve, poor Diego's head fell off, so the kids and Grampy made 3 new snomen out of his remains...they are:  Tigger, Christopher Robin wearing the hat, and Pooh Bear...I'm sure they'll be leaving the family today...

F took the kids outside the other day to make a snowman a couple afternoons ago as we finally had perfect snowball/snowman making snow.  They were so cute, running about, slapping the snow onto the big snowballs F was making.  At the end of construction, we asked Anna (who kept giggling and saying, "Hi Snowman!  He loves me so much!" then hugging him) what his name was, she said immediately Diego.  I asked L what the middle name should be and he said, "Cetacean."  Which is the latin scientific name for whales, in case you didn't know.  So, Diego Cetacean Marston was born.  We love snow and will be so sad to it melt....