Bandaids

A couple of weeks ago, Alanna got a long shallow scratch down her forearm, which after some tears and plenty of kisses, required bandaids to feel better. She wore them for the rest of the day, lined up bandaid-to-bandaid, until bath time. I then suggested she get in the bath with all 6 bandaids on and let the water soak them off; my idea was that would be the painless way to go. No. She wanted them off before the bath. She pulled them off one by one, totally dry, and totally in control. No tears, no whining. So brave.

That's my girl.

(I did all the wincing and sympathy aaahing instead.)

Semantics from an Almost 4 Year-Old

Alanna was playing with her new Lego Princess set, an Easter present from Grandma. I asked her to clean up the Legos on the floor because it was time to go to school, and was informed there were no Legos on the floor, only on the chair.

"Regardless of where the Legos are, Alanna, please clean them up so we can get going."

"They're PRINCESS Legos, not GUARDS, Mom."

Um, okay....


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"Mommy, there's a baby in my ear!"

"Huh?"

"There's a baby in my ear!"

"Well, how did it get there?"

"It crawled up my nose! It got stuffed up!"

Oh.... I think she's stuck on the semantics of stuffing something in a small space, and having a stuffed up nose while she's got this cold. I don't know how the baby got involved, though!

"That Stuff Will Kill You, Mom."

Recently, I got a phone call from school that Rhys was suffering from an ear ache, and that I needed to pick him up. Alanna and I were out running errands and were planning to meet Daddy for lunch, and we were hungry. But suddenly, I needed to pick up a sick boy and I had a grumpy girl in the backseat of the car– so I panicked: we went through the drive-thru at McDonald's. Now, I only go through the drive-thru in extreme circumstances: this one afternoon, and when I'm pregnant and don't have enough blood going to my brain. I've been a total of 4 times to a McDonald's in the last 7 years (and to be absolutely honest, once or twice we've gotten coffee inside an establishment). So, after getting three Happy Meals (one for me too) and picking up a sick kid (who had recently eaten lunch, but in my panic I forgot that little detail), I thought it would be good to have lunch when we got home. Instead, I was informed by my 6 year-old that he wasn't going to eat a Happy Meal because, "That stuff will kill you, Mom."

That's my boy.

And my daughter only ate the french fries. So the dog got a lot of treats that day.


As a note, we had to sit in line at the drive-thru so I had a chance to look up home remedies for ear aches because I really did not want to go to the doctor and have an automatic prescription for antibiotics handed to me. We spent some time that afternoon with warm compresses and warm garlic-infused olive oil drops, resting and watching movies. Just a few treatments that afternoon and evening, and another in the morning cleared Rhys's ear ache up, so we avoided antibiotics completely!

Almost Springtime

We had an absolutely beautiful weekend, with highs near 70 degrees. I was missing having a fire going in the wood stove, but being outside and working in the sunshine in the yard was a good solution to that loss. Yesterday and today, however, the high temp has dropped– by a whole 10 degrees!– and it is overcast and windy. Even though it seems like it's a little warm to have a fire going, I've got it blazing! We turned down the thermostat over the winter, knowing that I could keep the fire going most of the time, so on days like today with no solar gain, it only gets up to 62 degrees in the house (with the help of the furnace). It's just a little too chilly to hang out in that temp, so... it's perfect to have a fire! An added bonus is that it will get up to 75 degrees in the living room this evening, so while Aaron and I are watching a movie or tying flies, or reading or talking, we will be very cozy. The ambiance is perfect with a fire, too.

Names

Earlier this afternoon:

Rhys: Mommy, when I grow up, Rhys is going to be my middle name.

Me: Oh? Why is that?

Rhys: Because Dad will be my first name. Anderson will still be my last name, but it will be Dad Rhys Anderson. When I'm a dad and you're Grandma.

Me: Ha! Good thinking.

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Later this afternoon:

Rhys: I'll be King and Alanna is Princess.

Alanna: No! I am not a princess! My name is Rainbow Frosting!

Me: It is?

Alanna: And my middle name is Bird Frosting.

Only 3 Days...

Rhys knows that his Spring Break is coming up in April, and that he gets a week off from school. Tonight as he was going to bed, he had a bit of a meltdown, however, when he found out we were only going to be in Colorado visiting Grammy and Grampy for 3 days. After crying and clarifying to me that he gets a whole week off from school, and crying some more (he was really upset!), he declared that he'd rather not go to Colorado at all than only go for three days.

I explained that we would likely go visit Grammy and Grampy for a whole week this summer (plans that as of earlier this evening had not even been broached, and honestly were really nothing more than an attempt to get Rhys to stop freaking out). He tearfully verified that we would really go for an entire week, expressed his disappointment in only going for 3 days for Spring Break, and finally calmed down.

So, Grammy and Grampy, not only will we be visiting for 3 days over Spring Break with an unhappy grandson, but be prepared for us also to come stay for a week this summer!



Interesting tidbit: This is my 200th post on this blog!

Guest Post from Daddy: Kids' First Funeral

Last week, Grandpa Anderson (Daddy's Dad, as it were) passed away at the age of 72. It was sudden, and he was well on the way to recovery after quadruple bypass surgery in October. Minutes before, he had been walking on the treadmill in anticipation of a trip down to New Mexico. The full obituary is located here.

I want to share a few anecdotes about Grandpa. The first is Rhys's response when he heard the news: "Oh (sadly). I liked Grandpa."

The second is Alanna's delayed realization of what this trip to Idaho was for. I don't think it really hit home until we were sitting in the church on the day of the funeral: "I miss my Grandpa!" ("uhoo, uhoo, uhoo"- she was only sort of really crying). And that's OK; she's only 3. All in all our kids did a great job taking in all this heady grown-up stuff, and I was extremely proud of them. They were also a source of great comfort.

The third is our niece's brief but heartbreaking oration during the funeral service. I was saddened by the loss of my father, but my niece truly lost one of her best friends--her grandpa.

The rest of this post is dedicated to my memory of my Dad. He was a fount of one-liner knowledge. During the past several years I've written down as many as I can remember, and I'd like to share a few.

I've thought a lot about the things we were able to do together, and some of the adventures I've had without him. There were a lot of things I wish I could have shared with him. But he'd say "wish in one hand and spit in the other and see which one fills up first." Or course it was many years after childhood that I found out Dad's version was the "kid appropriate" one. Regardless, I have a lot of great memories and in the end there are no regrets.

The first thing I did after getting the news of Dad's passing was sit down and play the piano. As many of you know, I play a lot these days. While I was playing every dirge-y gospel tune I knew I thought back to Dad driving me to and from piano lessons in the next town over. There in the car we'd talk about whatever came up. Sometimes we'd get dinner before or after and I'd do homework. Inevitably, the moon-less winter evenings were very dark. Dad claimed it was "blacker than the inside of a cow." I have yet to substantiate that claim, but somehow he knew. Those winter nights could also be "colder than a well digger's ass."

As I got older I got more dirty jobs. Yesterday my Aunt's husband and I cleaned rain gutters and the dog kennel. I had to smile as I repeated one of Dad's most famous phrases: "Another bad job well done." I have exported that phrase everywhere I've lived and worked.

As we all know, life is full of frustration. Right or wrong, our frustration often comes as the result of interactions with other people. One fundamental set of truths my wife and I live by is the "Four Agreements," two of which are "don't take things personally" and "don't make assumptions." My Dad succinctly summarized these tenets with "consider the source." Of course, we aren't always as forgiving as we should be, and at those times our antagonists "can't tell shit from a better grade of peanut butter."

At the end of the funeral service and wake we were able to claim "another bad job well done." The grieving process will take much longer as we work through all the feelings and memories of a truly great man. Another of his phrases comes to mind as we're called to "keep a stiff upper lip."

We'll miss you, Grandpa.