August 30, 2011


Andrew received a book for his birthday called "Children's Miscellany." He hasn't yet written a thank you note for that gift because I keep forgetting. In my defense, he didn't get the book until three weeks after his birthday, which means that rather than seven weeks late, it's only four...

While the gifter hasn't been appropriately thanked, I love the title and have decided to begin working that word, miscellany, into conversation.


Andrew is feeling much better. His teacher told me this afternoon that he thought Andrew seemed much more energetic and himself today than even yesterday. THAT was what I have been waiting to hear. Every adult who has encountered me in the last week is probably WAY sick of hearing how concerned I am about him, but I've felt strongly that he just hasn't been himself.

A few hours later I know that "more energetic" means loud and even a little bit annoyingly himself, but we'll take it.


Now that he's feeling better I think I'm allowed to tell a story of our drive to the hospital last week. Andrew was so upset and confused and also nauseous that I rode in the backseat with him holding a garbage bag. We were 2/3 of the way to the ER when he began moaning and saying he didn't feel well and it just suddenly really felt like it would be good if were there already.

Mark pulled the car through a left hand turn on a busy street and then ducked his head down and announced that he too wasn't feeling well... and was going to blackout. 

That's when I began yelling at him to PULLOVERRIGHTTHISINSTANT, because I was doing the math and I felt like if we could just keep driving we would get there faster than if he wrecked the car and we ended up waiting on an ambulance. We did a little Chinese firedrill right in the middle of a street so I could finish up the drive.

Someday we'll tell Andrew about the time he knocked himself silly and his dad was so worried about him that he was having sympathy nausea and dizziness.  That's love.


In the last week Andrew has received books, legos, balloons, candy, cupcakes and cards from his buddies as get well wishes. The most priceless one I've saved.

I told this friend's mom that Andrew really appreciated the visit from his classmate and I really appreciated the card because it simply made my day last Thursday!


Speaking of all those get well gifts. We haven't written any thank you notes for those either. Do we need to? I'm not sure. Probably? Thoughts? Opinions?


Since Andrew's been a little out of commission, Thomas has been a little bored. He's accustomed to his brother providing most of his entertainment, much of his direction and nearly all of his thoughts. I have taken him out to ride his bike a couple of times just to get him out of the house and engaged in an activity. Lately, we've been riding to a church up the street because they have a huge, empty parking lot that gives the boys a place to cruise more freely than the sidewalk or our driveway.

Last night he asked me when we could go to Honey Mustard again. I didn't understand the question so I asked him to repeat it. He did. "When can we go to Honey Mustard again?" I couldn't figure out whether he was asking a serious question or just being silly then he said, "You know, to ride our bikes. When can we take our bikes to that Honey Mustard place again?"

It's the church. It's called The Mustard Seed. 

August 24, 2011

That sucked

I had a regularly scheduled meeting on today's calendar that I regularly dread. I always dread this meeting for reasons that I shouldn't elaborate on in a public forum, but today I was feeling particularly anxious about it. It lasts until 5 p.m. and it was going to be a real feat for either of us to leave work at 5p.m. and somehow still have Andrew AT soccer at 5p.m. and then get Thomas to his first ever soccer practice from 5:45-6:45 and pick Andrew up at 6:30 and somehow have us all eat a dinner together that didn't come out of a box.

I know other families juggle this kind of activity every night of the week without breaking a sweat but we're kind of new to this arena. We had a plan thrown together but I left for work thinking that the plan was full of kinks and hating that this meeting was making it all more complicated. As is so often the case, the biggest kink was still lurking.

Getting a call from Andrew's school principal at 10:45 this morning telling me that he had fallen on the playground and had "bumped his head" turned out to be my golden ticket out of the dreaded meeting. Funny thing, though; by the time the meeting rolled around I would have given anything to be sitting in that uncomfortable, tense professional environment where I'm supposed to look like I have a clue what I'm doing. Instead I was keeping watch over my boy, who had given us an awful fright, and I felt way further in over my head than I ever do at work.

We had spent the intervening hours in the hospital emergency department where Andrew alternated between agitated and tearful to quiet and confused and, truthfully, Mark and I weren't any more clear headed than he was. He asked us a series of questions over and over and over in the ER and we answered them each time but, the more times we answered, the more difficult it became to respond calmly.

"Why are we here?" Because you fell at school.

"How did it happen?" You were playing soccer with your friends.

"Am I paralyzed?" No, sweetie. You hit your head but you walked in to the hospital.

"Am I going to have to spend the night here?" We don't think so but if you do we'll be right here with you.

"Where is Thomas?" He's at school.

"Am I having a dream or is this really happening?" It's real life, baby.  This is real life.

"Why are we here again?"
"How did this happen?"
"Am I paralyzed?"
"Do I have to spend the night here?"

And so it went...for two plus hours.

A CT scan indicated that he has a concussion but no bleeding and no skull fracture and we were sent home with instructions on how to care for a child with a head injury which include staying near him tonight and waking him during his sleep. It won't be a problem because you couldn't pry us away.

He's still a little groggy and just sort of slow for Andrew standards. He doesn't remember anything about today, though he did eventually become able to at least wager a guess on what he had eaten for breakfast. We're trying to piece together exactly what happened on the playground because he doesn't have a clue and at this point it doesn't seem likely he's going to remember.

Needless to say he won't be at school tomorrow and he won't be playing soccer for a while. I also won't dread the next regularly scheduled meeting quite as much because no middle-aged man can lob anything at me that's more upsetting than watching a piece of your DNA hurt so much.

August 16, 2011


We live in a quiet little town with our two children, one dog and 1.75 jobs. We lead a fairly simple life. With that said, I’m not sure why I can’t find time to document our existence here. We’re no busier than the average family. I think I just manage my time poorly because I somehow feel like I meet myself coming and going. Someday I’ll get better at this. In the meantime, I’ve made this my screensaver at work. It reminds me that at the end of each day my kids look peaceful and relatively happy.

This was taken on our summer vacation to Dallas. The boys shared a bed and, quite frankly, it didn’t go that well. At some point during each night we were in our hotel room I was awakened by them YELLING at one another about who had more blankets and who was hogging mattress space. Yet, early one morning, mere hours after a 3 a.m. tussle that could have woken the neighbors, we found this.

It makes me happy.