Funny

My new favorite quote.

Tina Fey, on having more children, in the January Vanity Fair.

"I feel like the window is closing...Obviously you want the best chance of the baby being healthy, and I think with our life and jobs right as they are at this moment, it doesn't seem possible. It's the year after the baby comes that is like someone hitting you every day in the face with a hammer."

New Red Dress

Ellie's Grandma Jerry sent holiday outfits for the kids over Thanksgiving weekend. She sent Ellie three dresses (ahem! Think it's a subtle hint that I'm supposed to go get the kids' pictures taken?) We only got as far as trying on the one.




We were so busy "oohing" and "ahhing" over how cute she looked in the curiously tarty Christmas dress, that Leo begged to be let in on the action:

I realize these photos might mean an end to his political career, but I couldn't resist.

I know, I know, this is more like it (Grandma Jerry sent this outfit too).

Once we got the annoying clip-on tie to stay put, Leo seemed to enjoy himself.

And even though I was incredibly full from our Thanksgiving meal (eaten shortly before this photo was taken) I couldn't resist attempting a bite out of an irresistable Leo thigh.

Earning Their Keep

I finally came to my senses last weekend and put the hooligans to work. 'Bout time they started helping out around the place.

Here's Leo, a blur as he dashes over to grab the prized broom out of Ellie's hands.



Here's a familiar sight: Leo getting into something and Ellie standing there, just soaking it all in and also, wondering, what the heck is he doing now?


They were both in love with this mini snow shovel. We used this when we lived in Brooklyn (small apartment = mini snow shovel). Not sure why we kept it but it's pretty darn cute.


I think this is the smile that is going to get Ellie out of a lot of hot water in the teenage years.

Couldn't Ask For More Than That

I've written before about Leo's communication book, a little journal that lives in his backpack, that his teacher and therapists write in when something notable happens. Sometimes it's mundane, a request for more pants if Leo had a potty accident. Sometimes it's distressing: "Leo had a bad morning, he threw up after music and then didn't want to participate in circle time."

Mostly, it's positive: "Leo had a great speech session today, he was able to say "Santa" and "Tree" based on visual cues, without prompting."

But yesterday's note from Leo's teacher, that one was a keeper. It brought tears to my eyes (OK, it doesn't take much, but still).

We had been having a "conversation" about how Leo sometimes wakes up from nap crying and upset. His teacher wanted to know how we handle this at home. Well, back in the good old days when Leo actually napped at home, we would usually either leave him alone and let him have his little tantrum which he would usually snap out of, or we'd cheat and let him watch a little Elmo DVD as a distraction. I wrote to the teacher that I realized she probably couldn't do that.

Here's what she wrote back:

"Leo had a very good day as usual. As you know, we never have any behavior problems from Leo at school. It has only been in the last month and a half that we see the crying episode after he wakes up from nap and it's only for a couple of minutes. And even this is not every day. I think that he sometimes forgets that he has to act like this! (smiley face). Otherwise, he is always a pleasure. As you very well know that he is my bright star!"

Sniff.

Her "bright star"? Nope, I couldn't ask for more than that.

Train Show Pics

As I mentioned, we took the kids to the train show at the New York Botanical Garden last weekend.

It wasn't a huge exhibit, but the whole thing was pretty impressive. It was dozens of miniature reproductions of New York City landmarks (the Metropolitan Museum, the New York Public Library, the Guggenheim) all constructed entirely out of natural ingredients (twigs, branches, moss, leaves). And of course, there were tiny trains running throughout.

Here's Leo admiring the trains. Or, as he calls them, "rains, woo, woo!" (As in trains, go choo, choo!). I just love Leo's crooked little ears. You can't see them too well here, unless you enlarge the picture. Go ahead...you know you want to...

This ladybug train whizzed by crazy fast. That building is supposed to be the Metropolitan Museum. Pretty accurate, I thought.

There was lots of curious peering and crouching. Surprisingly enough, no one tried to scale the short walls.

Leo loved this little house. So much so that we couldn't get him out. Erin and I had to tag team at both doors and then pull him out. Yea, good times. Note the miserably cold looking rainy day. Sure that did wonders for Ellie's cold and brewing ear infection. In spite of the weather, it was a lovely day. They didn't allow strollers in the train exhibit and Leo did great. It was pretty crowded and I thought about how a year ago he probably wouldn't have had the attention span or maturity to handle it. But he was totally into it this year and very focused on looking at each and every train. He didn't dash off or anything, so I call that a success.

We Live and Also, I am a Space Cadet

I think I have broken a record in not blogging. I have had dozens of posts started in my head but there's been Thanksgiving and a busy weekend and a sick Ellie. I have wanted to write about finding long lost relatives, taking the kids to the train show at the New York Botanical Garden (thumbs up) and getting the Christmas tree and Hanukkah Bush (the earliest we've ever done it, much levity is needed this year), and decorating the house and about the new bakeware I bought at Costco and all my optimistic plans to branch out and try some new recipes for holiday cookies this year.

I am on day #2 of staying home with a sick Ellie. She wasn't herself this weekend, but considering she is cutting all four molars and both eye teeth, we chalked it up to teething and also maybe a little cold. But I had that sinking feeling Monday morning when I dropped her off at daycare (and the nagging guilt) and sure enough, just as I sat down to enjoy my Mexican lunch at my desk, I got The Call. Come pick her up. I took her straight to the doctor where she was diagnosed with an ear infection. We were sent home with a prescription and I knew I would at least be home Tuesday. Here's where I give a shout out to my neighborhood pharmacy and I give thanks once again that as much as I sometimes miss the Thai takeout, I'm grateful we no longer live in Brooklyn. I'm pretty sure the pharmacy there would not bring my baby's prescription to my car, go back in to run my credit card and then come back out for me to sign the receipt (Ellie was asleep in the car). Long live the suburbs.

This morning, the plan was to take Ellie to daycare and see how she eased into her return while I took Leo to his follow-up ENT appointment (following his ear cleaning/tube exam sedation two weeks ago). I told the daycare I'd check in with them after Leo's appointment and before I headed into the city for work. Again, with the sinking feeling, as Ellie did NOT look happy to be at daycare when I left her. I sort of knew I'd be back to get her shortly.

Leo was ecstatic to leave daycare, and as an added bonus, alone, with me! No Ellie! Poor guy had no idea we were headed somewhere not so fun, probably his most hated doctor of all, the dreaded ear doctor. But for a moment he had a skip in his step and kept saying "yay" just because. He said hi to everyone on the walk from the car to the doctor's office.

Too bad his appointment isn't actually until tomorrow.

And seriously, I even double checked it. I honestly don't know what my problem was/is. In my defense, sleep has been sucking at our house lately. Two nights in a row Leo has woken up in the middle of the night and ended up in our bed. Sleeping with Leo is like sleeping with an epileptic octopus. There is no other way to describe it. I think he absolutely must have Restless Leg Syndrome. And did I mention he insists on sleeping On me? Like practically on top of me. And last night getting Ellie down was the worst since her newborn days, when she would fall asleep and then wake up with a start, the second we set her down in the Pack N Play. Erin (aka the Baby Whisperer) was finally able to get Ellie down after an hour of me rocking and nuzzling her).

After the morning's dress rehersal for the ENT appointment, I took Leo to school (he was NOT happy about the end of just Mommy and Me, collapsing into a puddle in the parking lot). And then I was back to the daycare to retrieve the still sick Ellie.

So. It's almost 2pm and I have just now finally succeeded in getting Ellie down for a nap (she normally naps around 10am). I feel bad missing work and am optimistic about tomorrow. I don't know what to do. This is when I wish we had a retired grandmother close by. Or any relative, for that matter. But that is a post for another day.

In the meantime, I am vascillating between taking advantage of this quiet moment to lay on the couch and watch "Shakespeare in Love" or cooking an actual dinner for later (as opposed to the usual thaw and stir fry Trader Joe's entree that is our nightly fare). I did all the laundry yesterday so there's nothing else to do (well, truthfully I could do a lot but choose not to. This morning I noticed the lower kitchen cabinets are caked with some sort of yogurt/oatmeal substance and there is always the kitchen floor to mop but I fear that I have hit a bit of a housekeeping wall). Leo is still at school so I should really, really just savor the temporary quiet.

In good news, Ellie has learned a new word being home and sick: juice. Also, she has become quite an expert at "No." I know I will tire of it soon but for now, her little cute baby girl voice saying "no" is pretty freaking adorable. Also, she is mastering body parts--her absolute favorite is nose. I can only conjecture that since mine is on the large side she finds it to be the most fascinating facial body part.

Please say it isn't so. She's been asleep not even 30 minutes and I hear crying. Oy.

New York Times Piece

This is an interesting piece from the New York Times. Even more interesting were the responses, mostly from parents but also from siblings of people with Down syndrome. Warning, have your tissues handy. Very moving, sad, bittersweet, and simply sweet. I find myself both desperately curious to hear from siblings of people with Ds but also terrified. I only want to hear the stories of "my brother made me a better person, he is the glue that holds our family together..." I don't want to hear the bad stuff, but I know it's there.

But there's good stuff too. Trust me.