Muppet Therapy

Head colds have come and gone the past week.  Chris traveled to Connecticut and made it home on his scheduled flight, despite the east coast winter storms.  I found a lump in my breast, had a mammogram and an ultrasound and all is well.  I'm thankful for nuggets of fat.

Before Chris left town [because everything falls apart after his departure], he called me as he was driving the boys home from school.

"Middle Boy doesn't feel well.  You'll have questions, so just talk to him."

Chris handed Middle Boy the phone.  In between congested deep sniffs and a lisp I can't recreate, I could tell he was trying to hide that he was crying.  He was difficult to understand, but I heard that his ear hurt... and something about his tongue on a pole.

"What?  Did you stick your tongue to a pole?"  Temperatures were well below freezing that day.

"Uh-huh," he cried.

It was like ordering Chinese food over the telephone, but eventually I got that another boy was successful removing his tongue from a frozen pole at recess so Middle Boy tried the same trick.  I asked if someone dared him to do it or if someone yanked his head off the pole, suspicious that he might have been bullied into the situation.  Nope.  He made both the entry and exit decisions on his own.

Middle Boy described how his tongue skin was still on the pole, and how he couldn't eat his lunch because... there was mustard on his sandwich, and oh his ear... it hurt so badly.  It had been a terrible day.  Would I please call the doctor?  Of course.

He went to the doctor that evening, had an ear infection and a bum tongue.  Antibiotics for one, ibuprofen and tepid, bland liquids for the other.

I listened to Middle Boy vent from the backseat of his father's car on the way home from school that day, and responded with mom-speak. Aw. I'm sorry, honey.  Shoot.  It's okay.  You can rest all weekend.  I understand.

He was finished.  He had purged his troubles for the time being, but still felt lousy.

One of Middle Boy's Christmas presents was a Muppet Whatnot.  He was able to create his own Muppet online, and the completed gift had arrived a few hours earlier.

"I know it's been a rough day, but I have some news that might cheer you up.  There's a package with your name on it waiting for you."

He sniffed a few times, "Wha?"

"It's your Muppet."

"YETH!"

What's our vector, Victor?

The first entry in my 2011 journal...

I also have specific writing goals, as well as general/specific personal and family goals.  I don't feel the need to share here, but Chris has reviewed my lists and has agreed to be my accountability partner. 

NOTE:  If you show me yours, I'll show you mine.  Email me.  I've always been a good cheerleader.  I may not be able to do the splits or a Herkie any longer, but I'll pull a hammy trying.

The last few months of 2010 I didn't blog much.  Pretend the following are appropriate-length, funny, moving, entertaining [with attached photos and/or video] blog posts:

• Completed the Triple Trail Challenge for the second time.  Over. It.


• Got my braces off. [Pictures to come in a future post.]


• Finished writing a book.  [I'm waiting to hear from a publisher and considering the next step.]


• Dealt with a health issue.  I'm going to live but am recovering from numbness on my right side.  [Seriously.  I totally had an MRI of my brain, and was able to prove to Chris that my mind is perfectly healthy... and genius.]


• Celebrated my sons' birthdays.


• Chris and I cranked out another one, completing our 21st year of marriage.


• Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas -- check, check, check.


• Maintenance of relationships was poor, but real friends/family/people understand.

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The five-year-old boy has already accomplished a 2011 goal.  He learned to whistle.  He's usually the last person in our house to wake up in the morning.  He likes to creep down the stairs and startle me.  I allow this to happen even though I hear his bedroom door open and feel his little presence behind me.  And now I have to pretend I don't hear him whistling from the time he lifts his head off the pillow until he reaches the bottom of the stairs.

**********

I'll share the summary and affirmation paragraph from the Twenty-Eleven Goals entry in my journal.  You have permission to roll your eyes, remind me of my words when I bitch about them, join me in the cheesefest, or... nothing.

I've decided to add one more specific goal to my personal list.  I'm going to teach the 5YO boy to whistle with his two fingers in his mouth.  Just watch.

Happy New Year.

Standby One...

This crazy blog has provided me joy, frustration, stress, therapy, feelings of self-doubt as well as feelings of self-assuredness.  I'm not closing the doors, although I've considered it.  People who currently blog or have blogged in the past, know these feelings well.  Those who don't blog wonder what the big deal is.  It's your blog, write what you want, when you want.  Pfff!

And those who don't blog... are absolutely right.

I'm looking forward to closing out 2010 with Chris and the boys.  We have a few things to accomplish before the end of the year, but mostly we hope to enjoy some unstructured time, a visit from my parents, and the magic that is Christmas.  [I still believe!]

Chris worked hard lighting the too-tall tree that takes four adults to get in our family room.  As he balanced on a borrowed 20-foot ladder, moving ornaments a little to the left -- no, back to the right... wait... the blue sparkly one needs to go to the other side -- he accused me of trying to kill him for the life insurance money.

The tree is beautiful.  Middle Boy sat on the floor every morning before school, quietly looking at the lights and ornaments.  He seemed to be meditating, almost soothed by his private moments with the tree while the house was still.

[Chris and boys decorating.]

[Mary watching.]

 

I've intercepted the glide slope for 2011 and I'm ready for a solid and safe landing.  Bear with me and if I make it, I'll keep fiddling around with this silly blog.

Merry Christmas.