Monthly Archives: August 2015

Obligatory Pictures

And non-obligatory quotes.

First shot. Very rushed, almost dropped my phone. We have to cross the road this year (and Elias is a preschooler and so a parent has to cross the road because the school says so and I get it even though I’m sure all the people waiting in their cars on their way to work think I’m being a helicopter parent, and yes I know I shouldn’t care so much what other people think), so to get the picture I had to stand in the ditch and get wet feet. This is how much I love you, children.

Yeah. That didn’t go so well. This one’s better.

And now for the promised non-obligatory quotes.

OH! My lunch box is packed. I LOVE carrying my lunch box! Oh, I can’t WAIT to ride the bus! Oh, I can’t wait to start first grade!

I’m excited about going back to preschool, Mommy. <pause> My favorite part is eating. <longer pause> And going home.

They’re so much alike, aren’t they? Sometimes even *I* can’t tell them apart.


It’s been a jam-packed day and I’ve barely had time to think, let alone write. But lest I be accused of favoritism or unfairness in birthday postings, I think it’s important to say this. 

This boy right here? With all the missing teeth? 

He is seven. This very day. 

Happy birthday, punk. We love you most awfully much. 

Bedlam … er, bedtime.

I know, long dry spells and then two posts in one day. Bedtime tonight was just too ridiculous not to share.


Paul: I want to tell you guys a story. Stymie cut a big gash in his head at work Saturday.
Levi: DID HE DIE?!?!
Me: No, you bloodthirsty child.
P: Well, I didn’t see it. But Dan said it was big.
L: Are you sure he didn’t DIE?!?
Me: No, I said he didn’t die. I’m sure.
P: And then he went home early. He went home early. You don’t understand. He doesn’t do that.
L: DAD! DAD! DAD! DAD! Did he DIE when he cut his head off?
P: He didn’t cut his head off! He just cut a big gash in his head.
Mary Lou: Dan doesn’t leave work early?
P: No. Well, he doesn’t either, but I meant Stymie.
Me: I don’t know why you can’t keep up.
P: He just never leaves early. It’s like seriously a big event.
Elias, running through the kitchen with arms over his head: EVERYBODY CONGA! EVERYBODY CONGA! EVERYBODY CONGA!
Me: It is way past bedtime. Way. Past. HEY! Go brush your teeth!!
P: You guys aren’t even listening to me.
L: EVERYBODY CONGA! EVERY … HEY DAD!!!! When he cut his head off, what did the doctor do? CONGA! EVERYBODY CONGA!
Me: I’m sorry. I thought you were done.
ML: Me too.
P: He didn’t cut his head off, I said. He just got a gash in his head. He probably just rubbed some dirt on it.
L: Oh!
P: And no, I wasn’t done.
Me: If I don’t kill these children by 10:00 tomorrow morning, it’s going to be a miracle. GO BRUSH YOUR TEETH!!!!!!! Sorry. Please go ahead with your story.
P: And then he came in late. Came in late!!!! Beanie! Stop that!
Me: Tricia is going to text me tomorrow and tell me how nice it is that the girls are at school, and then I’m going to have to kill her, too.
ML: Oh, she wouldn’t do that. Bahahahahaha!!!!!
P: So we asked him what the doctor said. He said his wife really thought he needed stitches but that’s just silly, and she wasn’t dragging him in to any doctor.
L, around his toothbrush: Yes, Mom! OWWWWW! He’s punching me!
E: NUH UH!!!!! Owwwww!!
Me: So help me …
ML: I’m sorry. We really are listening. Go ahead.
P: No, I’m done. That was the end.
Me: … okay.
P: I just thought it was funny because his wife was worried about him and he thought that was silly.
ML: Yep.
Me: Yep.
L: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!
Me: Oh, what now?
L: It’s my turn for the Star Wars pajamas and he’s ALREADY WEARING THEM!!!!
Me, more concerned with quiet than justice: Well, um … it’s his birthday. Maybe just let him wear them tonight and we’ll makes sure you wear them on your birthday? You’ll have to remind me, though.
L: Noooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ML: <giggle>
Me: What?
ML: Your children are … funny.
Me: It’s funnier when you don’t live here.
ML: I do know that.
P: Is it an odd or an even day, guys? Odd? Okay, it’s Levi’s turn for the first drink. (No, seriously. This is a thing. THAT WE HAVE TO KEEP TRACK OF.)
E: But it’s MY BIRTHDAY!!!!
P: Do you think he can have first drink since it’s his birthday tonight, bud?
L: I’ll trade him for the Star Wars pajamas.
P: We’re not trading pajamas. It’s way past bedtime.
L: Give me the drink.
ML, from the next room: <hysterical laughter>
Me: Why are all the socks on the floor?!?!?! I don’t understand what happens in here.
P: Okay, honey. Let’s just get them to bed. What are they doing?
Me: They’re trading pajamas now. I can’t even.
P: Guys! This is not the time for messing around!
L: But now I’m not wearing ANY shirt!!!
P: Guys, you’re making Mama put her head down in her hands. Come on now.

Believe it or not, after a bedtime prayer and a closed door, I haven’t heard anything else from them. They have two speeds: warp and off. Anyway. This is why I don’t get enough sleep. I stay up late because it’s the only time the house is quiet.

I’m sure Paul’s story was a lot funnier when he got to tell it without any conga lines.

Also, I am thankful birthdays come once a year. I can’t handle all the exception negotiations.


He’s five, this boy. He’s pretty excited about it. He climbed into bed with me this morning and, as light snuck in under my just-cracked eyelid, chirped, “Did you FORGET TO TELL ME SOMETHING TODAY?!?”

Happy birthday, buddy. Five is a nice number.

Until November 

At least we hope so.  

We had our annual visit at the CF Center this morning. This doesn’t meant the only time in the year we visit – it means the one time every year that we see everybody on his multi-discipline team all in one appointment. 

Sometimes it gets pretty long. (A couple of years ago I did a blow-by-blow, if you’re interested in what it’s like.) Today we wete out in three hours. Honestly, it takes a lot of coordination to achieve this. Mad props to our CF Center staff. 

This is Levi’s favorite way to pass the time. He’s watching Scooby Doo on Netflix. He’s under the desk because the shade makes it easier to see the iPad screen. 

The staff finds us odd but harmless. 

I can’t tell you how much easier this has been in the last couple of years, compared to when he was little. Now if I have some cartoons and a few snacks, we’re golden. 

I’m delighted to be able to report that he’s doing well on all fronts. There’s a drug trial running right now that he could potentially be a part of, but he doesn’t qualify. His lung function is too good. (Words a CF parent will never, ever get tired of hearing.)

We celebrated at Wendy’s (yes, queue up Big Spender on the jukebox). 
 Unless he gets sick (and the beginning of the school year can be a little dicey) we don’t have to go back until November. 

So things are good. 

Extra Protein

L: Hey Mom! If I eat an ant, will it kill me?
Me: No, but it might taste gross.
L: It did.
Me: LEVI! Why would you … oh, I don’t even care.

Mom Level Total Apathy: ACHIEVED.