Cold Spaghetti

Many of these pictures capture a special moment — a reaching hand, a softened face, the hint of a smile — precious glimpses of the Grandma I grew up with. Look for the subtly and see if you can find what I feel.

The picture I’ve wanted for a long time: my Grandma, my Mom, me, and my children.

With Uncle Gus (Grandma Betty’s brother) and Uncle Corky, my Mom’s brother.
Plus Aunt Roxanne and Paul. My Dad is taking pictures.


Four generations of generous thighs.

Our rough itinerary:
— June 17th Sunday. (Father’s Day and my parents’ 34th wedding anniversary): Leave New Orleans at 7:25 AM. Plane change in Dulles. Arrive in Harrisburg at 1:35, wait for Mom’s 2:22 arrival and then get rental car (2007 Chrysler Town and Country Minivan!) Late arrivals, delays, and a 40 mile detour on the PA Turnpike help for a late (5:30) arrival in Carlisle. A trip to the store, pasta take-out, and a quick dip in the pool — kids in bed around 8:30pm. Paul works into the night.
— Monday. Paul works via hotel WiFi all day. Mom, me and the kids spend the day at Uncle Corky and Aunt Roxanne’s home in Carlisle, where my Grandma Betty lives with them. My cousin Katelin makes it back from her job at a local bank to visit. My Dad and Great Uncle Gus (Grandma Betty’s brother) drive from Pittsburgh, where Dad has been over the past weekend seeing the U.S. Open.
— Tuesday. Granna and PapPap, Uncle Gus, and the four of us (me, Paul, and kids) head to Strasburg, PA (Pennsylvania Dutch Country) to ride Thomas the Train. — Tuesday Night: Paul works late into the night to catch up on hours. Will wakes up at 1:35am throwing up all over his bed. He’s burning up.
— Wednesday. Will seems better in the morning… except for complaining that his “bones hurt” … uh-oh. It’s a family day with everyone (minus a working Paul) at Uncle Corky and Aunt Roxanne’s… Paul takes break from work to join us for an early dinner.
— Thursday. We leave for the airport at 4:18am. Dad (thankfully) drops us off so that we don’t have the added trouble of rental car return. Flying through Chicago, we arrive in NOLA around 11am. The kids handled the flights well (1.5 and 2.5 hours, respectively); Kate seems hoarse and Will is still complaining about his “bones.”

Kate had heatstroke from the Oak Street party we attended Saturday afternoon. She fell asleep in the car on the way home and when I took her out of the seat, noticed how incredibly hot she was… without any sign of sweat. I freaked out in the appropriate manner, woke her to nurse, and applied cool cloths. Once her temp was controlled and she was happy torturing Will with sloppy zerbers, I figured it was all behind us.

Until it happen again an hour later. Repeat performance.

And then again, when I checked on her at 1:30am. This was the point that I woke up Paul to worry with me.

“Paul, can you check the web for what symptoms we should be looking for when a child has meningitis? Look up heatstroke, too, maybe it is normal for her temp to keep coming back? She’s making wet diapers and is nursing fine, so shouldn’t her body temperature be okay now that she is hydrated? Yes, her eyes still look a bit sunken. Should we take her to Children’s just in case? Maybe we should put her back in the shower again. I’m very worried because her temperature is so strange and seems so high. Can you look it up and tell me what you think?”

While he was looking, I feel asleep with Kate nursing beside me. When I woke up with the alarm at 4:30, Kate was fine, sleeping soundly beside me. We got up and got ready for the trip.

Crisis averted due to Mother’s extreme exhaustion.

We’re back from our trip to Carlisle, PA, where we visited my Grandma Betty and spent time with my extended family. I’ve got a host of amazing pictures and some experiences that I would like to take the time (ha!) to compose thoughtfully, but until then have to vent:

Of all the things to get nailed for in security check-through, the jerk security guard TOOK AWAY THE FREEZER INSERTS TO MY BREASTPUMP. I showed them at the pre-screen without problem, but apparently they were too suspect to go through the xray. There was no problem with the two bottles of juice, carton of yogurt, and two sippy cups (that I claimed at the xray). Even the many items I forgot to claim (not completely intentionally) went through security without a second glance. (And, by all rights, I could have gotten really nailed for the things I forgot to mention.) But frozen inserts to a breastpump??

Still, the whole thing wouldn’t have been that much of a big deal to me if it weren’t for the flaky, all-powerful ridiculousness that went into his decision about the contended contraband. It wasn’t that they were “against the rules” which made it impossible for me to take through, it was his ASSESSMENT of them. This included a survey of “just how young a child” I was caring for and “whether the things inside really needed to be kept cold.” Apparently, having a teething child and wanting to keep drinks and binkies cold is suspect. As are a 1-year old’s leather sandals.

So, two of my medela freezer inserts were sacrificed to the jerk at Harrisonburg Airport. (!!)

A month or so ago, Abeona House applied for and was given a grant from Oak Street’s Main Street improvement project to have a sign made for the school. (The kids themselves walked to the office and hand-delivered the grant, something that the granting committee have said they will never forget!)
This weekend, before going down to enjoy Oak Street’s Block Party, Abeona held a small celebration (complete with champagne and noisemakers) to formally announce our non-profit status and have the unveiling of the sign.
The sign is spectacular. Our wonderful logo was designed by a talented graphic artist parent and the sign showcases her work in impressive relief and bright colors.
It is absolutely fantastic! A very touching moment to reflect on how far the school has come and all the wonderful things we have yet to do. I cannot wait to see it up!

Then we all walked down to the Block Party. We watched Brad (owner of Oak Street Cafe) read out some of the raffle winners, said ‘hi’ to Charles Farmer (Oak Street musician) and went out in search of food and fun.
Hooray for Abeona House and Hooray for Oak Street!

After receiving many stickers for his excellence in this area, Will took it up a notch this week when he brought home a bright and shiny Certificate of Achievement! Signed by his teacher, she writes:

“For recognition of setting an outstanding example of listening and behavior at naptime. Thank you!”

That’s right! Will is Abeona’s Number One NAPPER. Undeniable truth that he is his father’s son.

From Will’s Dictionary:

Burpted. (v.) To make loud belching sound from mouth. Example given: “Mommy, Oscar burp-ted. And he didn’t say ‘excuse me.’ Because he’s a grouch.”

Cafe. (n.) Rhymes with ‘safe.’ The cloth superheros wear around their necks. Example given: “Mommy, please tie my doggie blanket up on my neck because I need a cafe.”

Dive. (v.) The point at which something living, stops living. Somewhat heart-wrenching example given: “Mommy, why did Manx have to dive?” Less heart-wrenching example given: “If you pull the tree out of the dirt and leave it in the air, swoosh swoosh up on the side, it will dive.”

Chairs. (v, used as in salutations.) What you exclaim as you clink together glasses at the end of a toast. Example given: “Raise your glass! And…. CHAIRS!”

From Will’s Encyclopedia:

On mudpies: “You make mudpies with mud. And water. But mud goes first. Then the water. And sometimes it bubbles up! Like pop….pop…pop!”

On swim lessons: “Sometimes you dive to the bottom and you get water in your mouth. It makes me cough a lot.”

On outer space: “Outer space has a sun in it and it’s shining sometimes. Astronauts float with a… with a…. with a string and it’s hard to walk in outer space. Only astronauts can walk on outer space.”

On rocket boosters: “Rocket boosters land in the water and a pirate ship will rescue it and fix it and it will blast off again.”

On seat belts: “There are no seat belts on trains.” (pause) “Are there seat belts on trains? But rockets have seat belts, too. Rockets have seat belts like cars.”

Six out of the last eight mornings have seen Paul and I throw the kids in the Beamer (aka: all terrain dreamy stroller) and gotten out for exercise. I hesitate to use words like “work out,” lest this blissfully indulgent morning time get cut from our busy days. We manage to do this walk, at least a mile each day, in the 6-o-clock hour, returning home to shower and ready the kids for school, leaving promptly after Paul’s daily 8am meeting. Doing these walks each morning is a minor miracle and we’re proud.
Sunday, we decided to mix it up a bit. We combined the dual efforts of walking with cleaning out the freezer (alternate name: place to store stale bread) and brought bags of goodies to feed Audubon Park’s assorted inhabitants.
The biggest challenge was to make sure that Kate didn’t include herself in the list of those being fed; she didn’t really get the concept of feeding the ducks or squirrels food that seemed perfectly good to her.
She did, however, get as much dirt, leaves, mulch, and twigs into her as she could. I’ve always been fascinated with pica — and I’m beginning to wonder if my daughter is an example.
To her credit, she really likes to share.

Baby egrets have hatched. Birds are everywhere. Will took a detailed notice of the birds, in our perch downwind from the island: “I am smelling something yucky.”
(Note, this is not the island — just a bunch of downed twigs. The island is upriver from this picture and is currently covered with hundreds and hundreds of birds — it’s a full-on assault to the eyes, ears, and nose.) See the algae in the water?

When we picked up the kids from school on Friday, we let Kate play in the yard with the Big Kids for a few minutes. This is not something her class gets to do, since eating mulch is usually a bigger draw than actually playing on the toys. Kate surprised me by NOT diving into the mulch (at least at first) and instead going for the see-saw, climbing right up all by herself, and rocking wildly. She was VERY proud of herself, as you can see:
In Will’s words: “She’s our cutie-patootie!”

On this, the day of our 7th wedding anniversary, Paul greeted me in his own special way.

“Need any cortisone?”

“For what?”

“Got a 7-year itch?”

Seven years of these jokes, and yet, I’m nowhere near as insane as one would suspect. And I still have a sense of smell. These must be proof that Paul and I were meant to be together.

Seven? That is a number close to 100, right? Because certainly it takes a number that big to hold all the things that have happened since we got married.

Now we consider our lives in two units. One is the current era, the SITKOM era, where we are essentially defined by a Single Income, Two Kids, Oppressive Mortgage. (To be fair, I do bring in an occasional teaching or consulting check. But truly, SITKOM sounds much better than DITCOM.) The other, previous era is the DINK era, where we were Double Income, No Kids. This is also known as a dream state where we frivolously whiled away our days. Had we known what we know now, we’d have learned four languages, traveled the globe in a kayak twice over, and painted reproductions of Michaelangelo’s Sistine Chapel masterpiece in every room of the house. And don’t even talk about the missed opportunities for sleep.

We’ve lived and learned and now we’re SITKOMs. Somewhat predictable in plot, using a laugh track to keep things moving.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.