RenovationGirl

A Hushed Message

A few days ago, a got home from work to a message on our voice mail.  In very hushed tones, PorscheNut said, "Hey, call me back when you get a chance.  I have a story to tell you.  Porsche Peanut told me she and Builder Boy were playing truth or dare in his bedroom..." Click. 

Um.......

Since it was late at night, I couldn't call back right then, but truth be told, I wasn't ready to call back.  I wanted to talk first with Builder Boy to get the scoop, or at least hisscoop, as well as collect myself.  We knew the day would come when we'd have to worry about the boy/girl thing, but they're only going into first grade!  I was getting a little hysterical on the inside thinking of all the things they could have been doing during the clandestine game of truth or dare.  And since I have the boy, well, I was sure it'd be his fault whether is was his fault or not. 

In the meantime, before I could begin the interrogation, I talked with PorscheNut.  The following morning, I questioned Builder Boy about the situation. 

Me: (slyly) Builder Boy, were you and Porsche Peanut playing truth or dare in your bedroom?

BB: (without missing a beat) No. 

Me: (thoughtful)  Hmmm...really?  Because Porsche Peanut said you guys were...

BB:  (introspective silence)

Me:  (going in for the kill) You wouldn't have been daring one another to lick the bottoms of your feet, would you?

BB:  (stopping suddenly, he throws this over his shoulder) Stay out of my business, Mama! (and stomps off)

Oh boy, we're in trouble...

No Place for Babies

We had a park near our house when I was growing up that we could walk to.  It was a simple park...a baseball diamond/soccer field, a pavilion, a row of swings, an extremely high metal slide, and a merry go 'round.  Oh the merry go 'round. You would start running while pushing it until you got it going super fast, then you pulled yourself on to enjoy the ride.  I can remember how cool the air felt, how I felt like I was moving at warp speed, and how the sky spun until I was dizzy.  It was pure bliss and one of my very favorite parts of going to the park.

Today, Builder Boy and I went to our park.  We can also walk to this park.  It has many of the same highlights as my park did, albeit mostly made of plastic now, and this past fall they installed a merry go 'round.  I told Builder Boy all about my park (which he goes to now with my parents and which is run-down and kind of pathetic) and how much fun I used to have on the merry go 'round.  We excitedly ran to it and began our escapades.  As he pushed me on the merry go 'round, I lay back and watched the clear blue sky spinning.  I felt that same cool breeze and couldn't believe how fast it felt like I was moving. But as fast as I was moving on the merry go 'round cannot possibly compare to how fast I jumped off of the merry go 'round. 

Why, you ask?

To avoid hurling.  Yep, somewhere between 7 and 37 I have lost my ability to go 'round and 'round without extreme nausea.  For hours I was sick.  I had to sit in the park with my head between my knees while attempting to feign interest in what Builder Boy was doing.  He knew I wasn't feeling well, so he asked me how to spell "I love you," and subsequently etched it out the mulch I was sitting on "to make you feel better, Mama."  I had to stop a couple of times on the very short walk home to avoid getting sick on the street.  Once home, I had to lie down with a mint in my mouth and breath slowly and deliberately.  Hours later, I still do not feel right.

I totally can't hang with the 8 and under crowd.

Winters of the Past

Being a kid during winter in Pittsburgh was always a special treat.  No cares of how you would get to work, or how you forgot to buy salt for the steep driveway.  Snow meant sledding, snowball fights, snow forts, hot cocoa, and warm brownies.  I remember distinctly shoveling snow in the evening as giant, fluffy flakes fell onto my eyelashes.  My dad would often take us for a walk on those nights around our street.  The silence was intense with a beauty all its own. 

It seems, though, that for the past decade or so, we haven't had winters like this.  We'll get a dusting now and then, but those blizzards that blanketed the area have been a thing of the past.  This winter, though, has been a winter like those of my childhood and I'm so excited that Builder Boy gets to experience the type of winter that builds the greatest of childhood memories!

(and to all those to whom I swore we would only get an inch or two, I'm sorry...)

The Friday evening snow was perfect for building snowmen and having snowball fights! We built the snowman so big that Builder Boy had to build a snow step-stool. 

Guess who got hit with this snowball?  Yep, he always picks me too hit, even though I gave him this awesome snowball!

Father and son walking ahead on our evening walk.

 

Our weeping cherry weeping a little more than usual.
 

 

We tortured the cat and took him outside this morning.

 

Deconstructor Cat was not pleased...

 

Of course, there is always damage from storms like these...this giant limb is from our 250 year old tree.

To give you an idea of how much snow fell, check out our patio table. It's around 20 inches and was still falling when we took this picture.  Crazy!

 

Builder Boy loves to shovel!  We're so glad!!

Now we're hunkering down enjoying the weather from the inside.  I think a big pot of soup and homemade bread is in store for us tonight...maybe followed by a giant pan of warm brownies! Life is good!
 
 

One Month To Go!

In one month's time, lots of things will be happening for us.  We will have just celebrated Thanksgiving with our families and will be in full holiday preparation mode.  We look forward to this particular holiday since my husband's entire family usually makes it into town-and this is no small feat.  It is a day of eating and talking and laughing and eating some more and talking some more and laughing some more.  It's always a party with my in-laws, even when it's not a party and I like this stress-free day of family.

Around this time, too, will be a change in our lives.  Assuming all goes well, my final monthly blood work check will be over and we will be done with the "not trying" phase of our infertility.  Not sure where that leaves us.  In talking about recently, both Remodel Man and I admitted that while another baby would be wonderful, we would be okay with moving on.  Don't get me wrong, I ache when I see those bright-eyed babies smiling at me at they suck their fingers, but Builder Boy is five now.  He's largely independent. He's easier in some ways than ever and we are able to do more with him.  I think we are both in the "if it happens it happens" camp.  I'm still sad that we are a family of three, but more for Builder Boy than anyone.  So, when the times come and we're given the go ahead to try again, I think we'll just not hinder anything from happening, but we also won't actively "try."

In a month's time, I may also be experiencing a change in career.  I am toying with the decision now, but I'm not convinced which way is the best way for me and for my family.

The most exciting part of the end of November is that we're going to the happiest place on earth-Disney World.  I could not be more excited, especially because we are staying in a pirate room at the Caribbean Resort.  Builder Boy is a big fan of pirates so he will love this.  I'm excited to experience the magic of this trip with Builder Boy and Remodel Man. 

So, this month is a big one for us.  How about for you?

Wait, Watch Me, and Mama

There are certain triggers for me that make my heart start racing, where I feel claustrophobic and want to jump out of my skin.  These moments inevitably occur with Builder Boy...because of Builder Boy.  He knows how to push my buttons, and push them  he does.  However, these triggers are not meant to be button-pushers...they are just a part of his conversational pattern.  Even as a tiny little guy, he had little noises he would do over and over and over again.  For probably a year, he would start every sentence with, "I have to tell you something."  To which we would say, "Builder Boy, just tell us..."

For his entire life, every single sentence begins with "Mama."  I hear my name over and over and over and over and over and over again.  We used to joke that it would be a killer drinking game.  Honestly, though, it is so irritating after the thousandth time. 

One particular word that I hear all day which seriously makes me start to freak out a little on the inside is "wait."  If I try to leave the room, "Wait, Mama..." followed by a prolonged silence where Builder Boy attempts to think of something to say to get me to stay in the room-this after he has asked me to go get him a drink or snack. At bedtime, it's  "Wait, Mama" followed by "I have to tell you something." It drives me mad. 

His latest repetitive phrase is "Watch me."  At the pool, every little movement is preceded by, "Watch me, Mama."  I tell him over and over and over again that he is the only person I have to watch there, so he doesn't need to keep telling me to do so.  And I am watching.  He has my undivided attention.  I am all his.

Is this just me or does you kid have things like this that drive you nuts?  Please share...your annoyance might be our enjoyment.  Oh, and wait....

Some Days...

Some days, things just don't seem to go well.  Today was one of those days.  It's not that anything went horribly wrong, but things just didn't go horribly well, either.  Very rarely do I have a day off of work with Builder Boy where we are not running from appointment to class to errand.  Today, we just had one class, a fun time for him and an hour's break for me.  So we were able to start the day by just sitting in our jammies and playing.  (Okay, I sat in my jammies.  Builder Boy insists upon getting dressed immediately upon opening his eyes...while in some ways a good thing, some days, it'd be nice to just get up and go downstairs.)  We took our time.  Ate some yummy muffins I had made a couple of days ago.  He enjoyed a cold glass of milk while I enjoyed a steaming hot mug of coffee.  Very little television was watched and it was feeling good. 

Then things changed.

A game we were playing didn't go well.  I had to get a shower and couldn't entertain him for a few minutes while showering.  He didn't want to eat lunch.  I didn't want to play the same thing for the third hour.  He got mad as we drove to his Sports Skills class for...I have no idea what.  My hours' break while he was at class when I should have been grading papers became a time for me to question why I constantly feel so incompetent.  I called a friend just to hear the voice of someone who has more faith and confidence in me than I have in myself, but I had to leave a message.  I searched around for some bargains at a store, but couldn't find any.  I came back to pick him up from his class feeling unsettled.  He was energized and happy-I was exhausted.

We came home and took a long walk, and this was good.  But back at the house, he was crabby.  He played with the much older neighbor child only to be hit in the head with his own toy at close range with a foam airplane that can shoot (when not aimed at a five year old's head at point blank range) 30 feet. I flipped out.  Angry that the thirteen year old neighbor child could be so irresponsible.  I called my parents to try and settle this internal unrest, but they didn't want to talk.  I tried to clean up the kitchen after dinner, but Builder Boy needed help with something (while Remodel Man walked around outside doing...what???) which ended in another tantrum for both of us. 

So while this wasn't a day where bad things happened, it just seems like things are lining up.  I might be PMSing it, but who  knows when you get your period after your uterus has been vacuumed out? 

Tomorrow is my ultrasound to check on the ovaries and see why my estrogen levels are skyrocketing.  While I'm pretty sure these are just cysts, other issues have surfaced causing significant health alarm.  I am overwhelmed by their possibility and feel a great burden right now.  

So there you have it...some days are just like this... 

An Army Birthday

Let's take a break from the depressing, frustrating, and sad journey of infertility and complete molar pregnancies, shall we?  Instead, let's celebrate. 

Builder Boy turned 5 last week.  We had a great day on his actual birthday.  It was a day devoted all to him.  We played, had lunch with my parents, went to Build a Bear (I love that place!!), shopped for some camouflage shorts for his party, went to Toys R Us to use his birthday coupon, ate McDona.ld's for dinner, got Rita's for a bedtime snack...in a kid's world, it was a perfect day! 

On Sunday, we had his birthday party-it was an Army theme.  We made paper airplanes and had a contest to see whose would fly the farthest.  We made camouflage necklaces and had an army guy scavenger hunt.  The kids beat up an army tank pinata, then pillaged the porch for the pinata candy.  Builder Boy got a ton of nice presents (his friends were so generous!) that we are still opening today. 

I tried my hand at a Hummer cake...let me know what you think:

 

The inside, which was also camouflage:

 

Happy Birthday, Builder Boy!  You are my greatest accomplishment and a true gift from God.  I thank Him everyday for sending you to us.  I hope your 5th birthday was one to remember!

Feeling a Little Green

When Builder Boy came downstairs this morning, he was in for a big surprise.  Over the past few days, we have been "building" a leprechaun trap to hopefully catch a leprechaun and find ourselves a big pot of gold.  So we placed the trap out on Monday night and went to sleep hopeful that our trap would be full.  I was at work this morning, but Builder Boy was very excited to tell me what happened.  As he came down the stairs he noticed a sign at the bottom which read, " Beware: Leprechaun's were here" surrounded my little green footprints.  These led into our kitchen where clearly leprechaun's DID visit:

 

Although they were a little naughty, they were nice enough to leave Builder Boy a plate of green chocolate chip cookies.  They also were very naughty with his breakfast:

Yep...green eggs and green milk!

When Remodel Man and Builder Boy first came downstairs, Builder Boy asked Remodel Man to check the trap.  Remodel Man peeked inside, but said he didn't see anything. Then, as they walked away, the top of the trap started to open slowly.  Builder Boy freaked a little bit and ran to the other side of the room...Remodel Man quickly used this opportunity to explain to Builder Boy that the leprechaun must have gotten away "when they blinked." 

All in all, it was a very successful leprechaun attack.  I wonder what those naughty little leprechaun's will be up to next St. Patrick's Day?

A Little Pixie Dust

It came in the preschool backpack...that invitation that mothers of boys dread...the girl birthday party.  Fairies and princesses and pink things-Oh My!  So far, the only girl's birthday parties we have attended haven't been very "girly."  So, I knew as soon as I opened it that Builder Boy was going to flip.  "A GIRL party?!  Gross!!!  I don't want to go!!!" 

I should interject here that we are not that family who pushes one gender toy over another with Builder Boy.  His toys are diverse, but for all the diversity, he chooses stereotypical boy toys almost all the time.  About a year ago he started doing this thing where anytime he saw girl "stuff," he'd cry out, "Booooorrrrriing!!!" in this sing-songy voice.  Nice...

So, we talked about this party...everyone was invited.  Boys would be there.  No, he didn't have to dress up like a fairy.  Finally, it came down to one thing...would his best friend be going?  Yes.  "Okay, I guess I'll go."  And he stomped away...most likely to play with guns or monster trucks-just to prove he didn't really like fairies. 

I am happy to report that the party was a huge success!  Yes, there were princess dresses and fairy wings, lots of pinks and purples and girls, but for all that, kids are just kids.  They all ran in circles for what seemed like an hour (and it just might have been), some in dresses, others in jeans, some carrying golf clubs (yikes!), and they all managed to choke down some Tinkerbell cake.  When it came time to go, Builder Boy did not want to leave.

Seems like Tinkerbell might have sprinkled a little of that pixie dust our way...

Super Sunday, or the Last Hurrah

I made a decision in early January to begin eating healthfully again.  I have gained weight.  I feel gross.  I look gross.  I am eating everything in my sights.  But, with Dad's stroke, I was eating on the fly constantly.  I knew it would have to wait just a week or two.  Then, the Steelers got into the playoffs.  If there's one thing we know how to do in Pittsburgh, it's throwing a football party.  So, I made a decision that I would start eating better after football season.  I didn't want to curse the Steelers, so I didn't say anything until Polamalu caught that interception in the last four minutes of the AFC Championship. At that point, I turned to my family and laid in on the line.  Superbowl Sunday would be my last hurrah with food.

I love appetizers.  Chips, dip, pepperoni rolls, M & Ms.  It's all great.  I'm not so good at eating in moderation at parties with these foods.  Give me a bowl of buffalo chicken dip and some celery or crackers, and it's over.  Potato chips with french onion dip?  Back away from the bowl please!  Add one cold beer for the perfect finish.  I know these foods are terrible, but they taste so good! 

It just didn't make sense to me to start trying to eat better when I knew a table of temptation stood before me.  I'm enjoying this last week of eating junk.  I'm cleaning out the cupboards of the chocolate and chips and cheeses.  I'm savoring each last bite of fatty goodness.  I'm determined to make some changes and go back to last summer when I was eating natural, unprocessed foods in moderation.  I felt good and I was starting to look good.

So, no matter what happens on Sunday, no matter who wins the game, it will be my last day of eating like I had the metabolism of a teenager.  Monday starts a whole new season for more.