Matthew threw up last night. It’s a bad sign. I had stomach ookiness for a few days last week (still kind of have stomach strangeness…which is one step up from stomach ookiness for those of you not up on the terminology), so it appears that the stomach ookiness could, in fact, be a contagious kind. Although, with Matthew it’s hard to tell. He takes after me in the stomach ookiness realm – he’s prone to it. He’s proving to be a pukey child just like I was. He almost always vomits at some point during a cold since he still doesn’t blow his nose to get all the nastiness out.

Unfortunately, the vomiting last night was one of those very unfortunate vomir experiences. We’d been sitting at the table attempting to get Matthew to eat something (toast) which he was refusing to do. If the kid won’t eat carbs that’s a sign in this house that something is definitely amiss. Matthew started to act a little gaggy, so I jumped and ran to the bathroom to get our “puke bucket.” (Yes, we call it that). Hearing Mike’s cry of alarm alerted me to the fact that I wasn’t going to make it in time. It was too late. Vomit. All over. Dining table, Matthew, Mike, floor. Every where. What amazes me the most about Matthew is that he has completely mastered the vomit skill, unlike me; he’s hardly fazed by it. I’ve spent a lifetime as a pukey soul and still struggle with it. Well, who really enjoys throwing up, but still, some are better than others. Matthew is one of the good ones. And last night’s vomiting took the cake. Mid-gasp – I mean he wasn’t even completely done – Matthew pants out, “Mommy, I love you, but I’m yucky.” Mid-puke! So, what do I say? What any parent would say: “Matthew, I love you too, even when you’re yucky.”

I’m happy to report that the vomiting does force things like a deep cleaning of the carpet on and around the incident and a total table wipe-down. Sadly, it may take a throw-up incident for me to finally getting around to washing the windows. Every window in the living room and dining room area currently acts as our growth chart. – we interrupt this fascinating BLOG with an important update: at the very moment that I was typing, I looked over to see Matthew commence at throwing up his oatmeal breakfast all over himself, the sofa and Nick. Well, there’s another area of our home that has now received a thorough cleaning. Thank you. Some people measure their kids and draw the little pencil line on the wall or the back of the pantry door, not us; not here. In our house, all we have to do to see how the boys have grown is look at the windows. The hand prints gradually have gotten bigger and the face smears are a little taller – smooshed lip-impressions higher up on the glass.

It might be time to do something about this situation. This morning while I typed this (pre-couch vomiting episode), I looked out the living room window and thought, Hmm, it’s raining and really foggy out there now. Weird. Just a second ago I looked out the dining room and saw nothing but blue skies. Yes, that’s when I realized I was looking through the window at the boys’ exact look-out spot, and my view was clouded and hazy, filtered through oodles of face and hand prints.

Nine times out of ten, passersby on our street can look up at our front window and see two little heads pop up – one brown and one blond – above the sofa and smile and wave, faces pressed to the glass. My philosophy: why bother wiping away the face smooshes of their youth when A.) they’ll just do it again and leave new smears and B.) before I know it they’ll be too old for leaving face smooshes on my windows. I should savor them while they last, right?

Thanks to Zachary’s latest adventures (dancing a jig while dumping luke-warm coffee all over Kara, my laptop); my keyboard now makes a satisfying click-click-click sound whilst I type. I’m actually a fan of the post-stale and crusty coffeed keyboard. It makes me feel like I’m working on a typewriter. I should be in a dust mote-filled, sepia-hued office in a film noir, wearing a trench coat. My Fedora hangs on the coat tree behind the desk – empty save for my trusty typewriter. Most likely I’m a detective/private eye named Wednesday or Thursday…maybe Friday. I’m awaiting a visit from some mysterious visitor. The pouring rain outside splatters against the only window in the dimly lit office. A soft knock on the frosted glass door alerts me to the arrival of said mysterious visitor. Click-click-cli…my fingers pause mid-type as I slowly roll back from the desk ready to…

OK, my clicking keyboard has carried me away. The only thing really mysterious about my life right now is how a being as small as Zachary can possibly produce so much snot from two cute and innocent-looking nostrils. Yes, barely a month after our post-California trip colds, the Snot Fairy has landed at the Martin Household…again. And the Snot Fairy brought with her a friend – the evil Fever and Stomach Issues Nymph. I hate her. Hate is a strong word that I rarely use, but there’s just nothing pleasant about a visit from Fever and Stomach Issues Nymph. We’re nearly out of Kleenex thanks to Snot Fairy and we’re scraping by on the remaining squares of toilet paper thanks to her Nymph pal. Like I said, I hate her. Although she has helped me lose a couple of pounds…but still, I hate her.

Somehow, while Zach and I suffered, Mike and Matthew were able to delay their sickness a few days. Therefore despite my issues, we still managed to get Matthew to his first full week of preschool. And it is full – we go Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday mornings now. Then with my music classes on Fridays that only leaves us with one morning when we aren’t scrambling to be ready for the day. Welcome to the real world, I guess – a world where pajamas aren’t really socially acceptable past 10am!

The one small blessing Snot Fairy brought with her was the inability to smell any weird crusty, mustiness at Matthew’s preschool. I arrived on Monday with nostrils flaring, inhaling like a hunting dog on a mission but was unable to detect any Church Basement Stank. Maybe they did, in fact, get the place aired out – the stink and musty smell could have been from a summer of being closed up followed by a thorough carpet cleaning that temporarily released all stinkiness into the air. Mike reassured me that when he brought Matthew to preschool on Wednesday he, too, embarked on some serious sniffage. He thought everything smelled fine. Phew. The last thing I need is to pull Matthew from another preschool. It’s mid-September! I’d never find something else which means I’d be facing a year of being a hands-on, semi-educational mother! Pa-lease!
[CORRECTION: should you want to visit the website for Matthew’s marvelous and STINK-FREE preschool it is: www.highlandspreschool.com with an S at the end of highland…missed that the first time].

Zachary is in the stage of life where the word “No” is funny to him. (Mommy says it in a louder, deeper mean mommy voice; therefore it must be a joke and mean that whatever activity I’m involved in is both ingenious and hilarious). So this is the response that I received this morning to my yelling of “No! No! Oh no! Stop! Oh no!” when I found Zach standing on the dining room table dumping my mug of luke warm coffee all over my laptop keyboard. (The thoughts in my head were definitely worse than “No! No! Oh no! Stop! Oh no!”) Haha! That mommy of mine. She’s SO great. She must really love my new game of ‘laptop coffee dump’ since she’s making so much noise. She must really be telling me how wonderful I am! Man, I rock…I AM hilarious with all this coffee dumping. And she really liked my dancing on the table top yesterday, though she likes this show even better! Now that she’s busy cleaning up the coffee mess (I don’t see why she bothers though…) I think I’ll go jump on the couch and then do a headstand off of it.”

The good news is that Kara, my laptop, doesn’t seem to have suffered any permanent damage (other than emitting a slight coffee smell, which quite frankly, I enjoy).

Matthew attended his second day of preschool today. Yesterday was Open House where both he and I stayed and met his teacher, Mrs. Mac, and played together for an hour. He definitely approved of the truck selection on the playground. He could hardly wait to get to school today. The parents sat out in the “big room” for Parent Orientation while the kids experienced their first hour of flying solo in class. Only two or three of the twenty kids (in the two 3’s and 4-year-old classes) came sobbing out to their parents. Matthew certainly wasn’t one of them. The second Mrs. Mac opened the classroom door he was like, “See ya,” without even looking back.

My one, one little worry with this preschool – I know…if I quit another preschool this year, then I’ll probably be banned from ever enrolling in a preschool again, [“Oh, YOU’RE Matthew’s mom…you’re the one who joins preschool and then drops out because something just isn’t up to your standards…right. We know all about you.”] well, anyway my one issue is the smell. Yes, that’s right, I have an Odor Issue. (I’m seeking treatment for my OI problem). Here’s the issue: the preschool is in a church basement – which I knew ahead of time and visited and inspected thoroughly, if you’ll recall – and it smells of…of church basement. I inquired when I visited if the place gets cleaned and I was reassured that they were busy preparing for the carpets to be thoroughly cleaned that very weekend (four days ago) in preparations for the first day of school (yesterday). So, I was hoping yesterday to find a fresh-clean-scented school. No, it still smelled of church basement. Then today during parent orientation, after a while I thought, “hmmm, I have a little bit of a headache.” At the end of parent orientation, I overheard another mother asking Mrs. Mac about the smell and I thought, “Oh good, I’m not the only one suffering from OI.” Mrs. Mac reassured Other Mom that the windows are usually opened to air the place out and…I didn’t catch the rest. (I didn’t want to be too obvious in my eavesdropping). Out in the parking lot, I mentioned to Other Mom that I heard her mention the OI and I was glad not to be the only one.

She replied, “Yeah, it’s bad. If it doesn’t get better and they don’t do anything about it then I’m going to pull my daughter from this school. I had to take allergy medicine when I got home yesterday.”
This comment is what led to the worsening of my OI. What if it’s mold? What if this school will poison my child? I do have a headache, after all. Oh my gosh, it’s a brain tumor! I have cancer from the church basement stank. I can’t keep Matthew in a moldy, stanky odor church basement cancer school. The more I thought about it the more frustrated I became. But I LOVE this school. We’ve been registered for three different preschools in the last three weeks, and I was sure that the third time was the charm. I love the teacher, the curriculum, the playground, the classroom is great. It’s just the stanky, cancer mold that’s a problem.

The first chance I had I researched moldiness on-line. I, of course, am now an expert on things moldy, reactions to it and the ways to deal with it. I am thoroughly reassured that my headache was an unrelated fluke and not caused by mold. Turns out the whole mold thing usually takes a while to have an effect on the unsuspecting victim. (And headaches aren’t listed as one of the common side effects). So, I’ve concluded that the church basement stink is just that, church basement stink. It’s probably mildew at the very worst. Besides, it’s not like I’ll be there all that often to suffer through the stank…I’ll just drop Matthew off in his class and go. It’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. Anyways, it if is mold at least he’ll be getting a really great preschool education!

Here’s an update on the Adventures of the Martin Family (soon to be turned into a Major Motion Picture):

- Nick may be regressing. As reported earlier, our new little buddy (that I’m nannying this month) has declared that when he grows up, he wants to be a flower girl. I was given explicit directions from Nick’s parentals to work on this…and where better than in a house full of trucks and all things boy?! We had made a small improvement, sure enough at least now Nick does say that he wants to be a Flower Boy. Unfortunately, the influence of Nick’s five-year-old sister, Sydney will take some time to completely break. While Matthew and Nick were playing pirates, I walked into the room to find that Nick was completely bedazzled in all of the “treasure” – plastic bead necklaces. “Wow, Nick. Look at you!” I said. “Yeah, I’m a pretty princess!” He happily exclaimed. I broke that one to his dad Geoff, as easily as I could.

- Too many. To celebrate Matthew’s birthday, the boys (Matthew, Zachary and Nick) and I walked down to McDonalds and met up with friends for lunch and to play. As we commenced the walk home – Matthew walked while Nick and Zach were in the double-jogging stroller – we walked by the bank. An older woman had just exited. She looked at the boys. She looked at me. And then back at the boys. She shook her head disapprovingly and passionately said, “That’s WAY too many.” “Oh, well just these two are mine,” I said, gesturing to Zach and Matthew. But a second later, it hit me just how rude that comment had been. So what if I did have three kids close together – plenty of people out there do it. Later, when I thought about it, I regretted that I didn’t come up with something wittier to say. I could’ve placed my hand on my perma-belly-pooch and said, “Oh, well, actually we’re working on number 4…and since you said that, I think we’ll go for five!”

- Don’t bite. On Friday, Zachary and I were playing on our bed. It’s one of his favorite pastimes. He throws the pillows all around. Rolls on ‘em, under ‘em over ‘em…gets into general mischievous fun. Thus, we were playing on the bed and laughing away. My mouth was open (it was a good time – it was an open-mouth laugh) when somehow our faces totally collided. “Ow, shi…uuuut.” Escaped from my mouth as I felt my lips and checked to make sure no teeth had been knocked out. Oh, right. The kid. Zach had started to give a good cry. I inspected the damage and low and behold found that I had indeed left my mark on him. Right on his cheek – next to his nose – were two teeth mark gashes. One a top tooth and one a bottom tooth indent. Bad mommy. Don’t bite your children! People have asked when they see the little scabs, “Oh no! What happened?” And I mumble my answer: “I bit him.”

- Preschool trauma and drama. Somehow, I’m going to make a LONG story short. (Right, good luck with that one, Oh-Me-of-So-Few-Words). Matthew has been enrolled for preschool at the Renton Community Center (RCC) – same place he attended last year – since last Spring. This year he’d go Tues/Thursday mornings for 2 ½ hours. Andrea (also planning on doing the program for daughter Brooke) informed me that they were switching to the YMCA because it was a.) closer – a LOT closer and b.) longer – 3 hours instead of 2 ½, but I’m sure that the extra half hour makes all the difference in the world. We both withdrew from RCC and registered at the Y.

Last Wednesday night was parent orientation. The kids would have their first day the following morning. Andrea and I walked into the church basement room (where the Y is currently renting space) and found ourselves in an oversized storage closet – not a preschool classroom. And CERTAINLY not a classroom prepared to have 17 three and four-year-olds show up the next day for their first day of school. The place was crusty and musty, barren and blah. The teachers were kind of the same. The restrooms and nearest running water was down a long hallway. 40 minutes out of the three hour class schedule was allotted to shuttling kids to the potty and to wash hands. That’s 40 minutes of peeing and washing that we’re paying for! The teachers didn’t have answers to fairly important questions like, “So, there’s no running water in this room, do you have water for the kids to drink? What about drinking water for an emergency?” There response was, “Yes, there’s water in the emergency/disaster bins for …..hmm, I wonder where those are. We had them at the old building. Huh.” They were so not prepared and I was BEYOND not impressed. I could go on and on about all of the things that they didn’t seem prepared for. I could also go on and on about how unprepared I was for jumping into a new preschool without doing more research….but, whatever. Andrea and I walked out and looked at each other. “I think I need a drink,” I said.

After a lot of discussion we decided there was no way that Matthew would be going there. I pulled him out the next morning (when he should’ve been attending his first day). I called RCC to see if there was any chance there was still a spot for him in their class. Right. We’re 17th on the waiting list. Not going to happen. Don’t hold your breath. So, right when I was coming to terms with the fact that Matthew might not be in preschool this year, I might have to have him home with me ALL the time, I might have to actually start paying attention to him, maybe even attempting educational activities with him…I had a sudden thought! I remembered a preschool that one of my former music students had told me about. Actually, she dropped out of class because it conflicted with the preschool. I thought, any preschool that’s worth dropping my music class for, must be phenomenal! I called and found out that they’d had a cancellation THAT very morning. She’d hold it for a couple of hours but then she’d need to give it to someone else. I immediately jumped in the car to go see the facility and meet the teachers. (I was going to do some more in-depth research this time).

The teachers were all there – cleaning and organizing and decorating!!! Already a major improvement! One of the teachers spent nearly 25 minutes with me telling me all about the curriculum (they go on three field trips a year and have many special guests come throughout the year: musicians, magicians, firemen, policemen, etc.). She answered every question I could possibly think of and many that I never would have thought to ask. She knew her stuff and was definitely on top of things. And the bathrooms were RIGHT there! They have a fantastic playground for sunny days (including a sandbox and a vast toy truck supply – a requirement for Matthew) and they have a huge room for indoor play (on the many Seattle rainy days) equipped with tricycles, climbing equipment, tumbling mats, etc. Check out the website too: www.highlandpreschool.com – a website! With information! Imagine that! I’m sold. Wait, it gets better! It’s cheaper than the Y program PLUS an additional day! Matthew will be there Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays from 9:15-11:30am. That’s three mornings a week he’ll be gone. I’m sure Zachary and I will just sit around twiddling our thumbs until it’s time to pick him up! (Mike has already asked, “So, that’s three mornings a week that you’ll only have one kiddo, what are you going to do during that time?” Translation: Don’t spend it “running errands” also known as “spending money.”)

- Crazy-Busy. So, I’ve gotten you all caught up on our lives. Oh, no wait. I forgot something. We walked down today to the Newcastle Days (little town fair/festival). Both Matthew and Zach went on a pony ride and loved it. Zach barked at the pony the whole time. (According to Mr. Genius Zachary all non-human mammals bark including deer, rabbits, squirrels, sometimes ducks and ponies too, it turns out).

I may be MIA for a bit. Matthew starts preschool – his AWESOME three-day-a-week preschool – this week. I’ll also be watching Nick Tues-Friday, and I start up the Fall session of Little Ditties music class on Friday. SO I need to plan for that, and we’re trying like crazy to finish painting in the entryway and down by the music room -slash- laundry room before class rolls around. And because of school starting up and Nick arriving early, Andrea and I are now meeting for our MWF runs at 6am! Crazy-Busy, indeed.

HAPPY 4TH BIRTHDAY, MATTHEW!!!! Four? FOUR! Can you believe that it’s been four years since “I don’t think he’s going to like that name [Abigail Madeline]” Mr. HUGE surprise?! Crazy. Four. I remember four. It wasn’t that long ago. OK, well, it doesn’t feel like it was that long ago.

Yesterday was my first day watching little Nick (2 ½ yrs. old) from up the street. The combination of three boys ripping around this house was a little madness. But Mr. Nick, out of all three boys here, was BY FAR the most well behaved. Way to go Martin Boys. Nick is quiet and mellow and sweet, and it was all Matthew and Zachary could do to keep from smothering Nick in their love and adoration. And Zach couldn’t resist entirely. I heard Nick croaking something. I looked over and saw that Zach was squeezing Nick as hard as he could in a neck-hug of total devotion. Nick was quietly squeaking “Get off me….get off me, please.” Zach adores him and Matthew thinks he’s pretty darn cool too.

And how successfully my first day with all three boys was! I got them all down for naps at 2pm and they were out for two hours! Matthew had me up at 5:20am with a bad dream and I stayed up for an early run with Andrea, so I was pretty wiped. I managed to nap for an hour and a half! I’m working hard for my money.

Nick has a 5 yr. old sister, Sydney, who is as girlie as they come. She showed up today to drop Nick off and to head off to her second day of school dressed in sparkly top and metallic silver cowboy boots. I asked her what she wants to be when she grows up and she said, “a Rock Star.” This boy-infested, truck-obsessed household is absolutely the best place for Nick to spend the next month. I asked him yesterday what he wants to be when he grows up and he said, “A Flower Girl.” Matthew looked at Nick and said, “Huh?! You can’t be a Flower Girl. You gotta be a firefighter like me.” I told Geoff, Nick’s dad the story, and then with Sydney announcing her Rock Star aspirations this morning, he just looked towards the sky and said, “A Rock Star and a boy Flower Girl…help us.” I promised him that after a month with us, Nick will want to only be things manly: bulldozer driver, fire fighter, pirate…or in the very least a Flower Boy.

Mike has gone all Dr. Phil on me. Let me explain. So, Matthew, last night was acting all crazy – really wild and emotional, bouncing off the walls, general tom-foolery, etc. Turns out the poor child is sick. He was fine yesterday – well, behavior-wise, not so fine, but health-wise; fine. He woke up today complaining of a tummy ache but was in good spirits, otherwise. We went to church where he proceeded to just lie across us through the entire Mass (sign #1 that something wasn’t right), he passed up the offer of fruit snacks (this is when I really wondered what was up), didn’t finish his donut (there’s something seriously wrong with this child!), complained of being hot and cold and hot and cold in the car and begged to go straight to bed when we got home. His temperature at noon was 99.4 – not terrible, but he definitely didn’t feel well. He took a three hour long nap and perked up a bit during the afternoon. Tonight, at bed time he started fading again and had a temperature of 101.9. Thankfully, his Tylenol kicked in and he came out of his room, feeling much better and ready to party until way past bedtime.

So, last night because of Matthew’s bad-choice-making behavior, I said that he couldn’t come with me to visit the kitties next door. (Our neighbors are out of town for a couple of days, so we get to cat-sit). Matthew was absolutely devastated that he didn’t get to come visit the felines and proceeded to wail and sob and carry-on in the most tragic – and loud – way. I could hear him next door!

Mike, in a moment of complete parental peace and tranquility, asked Matthew why he was sad. They discussed that Matthew’s actions had caused the consequence of not being able to visit the cats with me. Then, in a moment of pure child psychology-genius, Mike channeled his inner-Dr. Phil and asked Matthew to draw him a picture of how this all made him feel. Matthew, being the complete artist prodigy and genius that HE is, commenced at drawing a self-portrait complete with TEARS running down his cheeks. (If this doesn’t make you do the Oprah-ugly-that’s-just-so-darn-touching-Cry than there’s no hope for you). Matthew began his picture again this time drawing sad Matthew sitting on a bus. Matthew explained that he was sad on the bus because he’ll be going to a new preschool [starting this week] and won’t have Ms. Susan for a teacher anymore. Then, in the last artistic masterpiece, Matthew drew yet another bus and yet another Matthew – this one without tears. He added another little person on the bus. “Who’s that?” Mike asked. Matthew smiled, “That’s Jack. He’s going to come to my preschool to make me feel all better.”

Jack is Matthew’s special-good-pal from our childbirth class. Matthew is, shall we say, just a little obsessed with Jack…and his mom (my good friend) Megan. Anytime we’re playing – trucks, legos, workermen, whatever – the toys are named Jack and Megan. He named plants in our backyard: Jack, Jackie, Jack’s Grandma, and Megan. Every once in a while, Matthew refuses to answer to the name Matthew and claims that he is Jack and I am his mother, Megan. Now, we love Jack and Megan just as much as Matthew but we’re a little concerned. It’s touching that Matthew wants to bring Jack to his preschool to make him feel better, but we may just have to have Dr. Mike look into this whole obsession a bit more.

In the meantime, Matthew and I discussed preschool a bit more tonight when he was feeling better. He said that he’d be sad because I’d leave him there but he’d be OK too ‘cuz he was going to put a force-field around himself to protect himself. I pray that the force be with him.

http://picasaweb.google.com/mike.james.martin/ New pictures: Disneyland, John Deere cucumber craftiness and more!

Job security. That’s the only reason I can come up with that they would have an entire row of open boxes of DONUTS at the gym. Thank you, 24 Hour Fitness, for congratulating us on finally making it into the gym and exercising. Thank you for treating us with PURE FATTY SUGAR! Cruel. Just cruel. The boys though, who had been playing in the Kids’ Club, were pretty happy to stumble upon the donut buffet.

Zachary has LOVED the Kids’ Club. It’s been months since I took the boys with me to the gym. Zach had been going through the whole separation anxiety thing, so I usually got pulled out of Spin Class to attend to my poor, suffering, tortured child. And because Zach was so upset, it upset Matthew. I decided recently that it was time to try again.

Zach took one look at the place and was like, “Woo hoo! What IS this place? This is awesome!” and took off running to see all the toys. Matthew, on the other hand, scarred by the last traumatic visits to the gym, does not easily forget. HE was totally upset to be there. He cried the whole way and then barricaded the Kids’ Club door so as not to let me in. (Yes, not at all awkward as I realize that everyone on the treadmills and stair climbers are watching me pry my sobbing child off the door frame just so I can quickly deposit him into the last place on Earth he wants to be). It was reported to me by a fellow mom that after I left, he cried for about a minute, rubbed his face and trotted off to inspect the truck supply (they have a decent collection, I might add). I don’t care if she was lying…it helped with my severe mommy-guilt.

Yesterday at the gym, as I checked the boys in, I saw that there was an 18 month old girl who had signed in just before us. Her name was Orphelia Martin. (Orphelia?! That’s not one you hear every day. I actually really like it though. But Martin – now there’s a name I could live with). Anyway, as soon as Zach was released into the wild of Kids’ Club kingdom, he went straight up to a little lady about his size. (Turns out it was Ms. Orphelia). The two tykes immediately started playing “house.” (Opening and closing the different parts of the play kitchen).

Orphelia looked over at me and shyly smiled. One of the childcare attendants said, “Wow! She rarely smiles. She’s the sweetest thing but really pretty quiet and serious. Her Mom speaks French.” (Hmmm…is this supposed to explain why the child has a more serious disposition?)

“Oh, that’s funny! I speak French too…and we have the same last name.” (Do I always sound like this much of a genius?!).

“No way!” she said. “Then they [Orphelia and Zachary] speak the same language. They can totally talk to each other!” Speak the same language?! Zach is 16 months old!! I’m not even sure if he speaks English. Well, he says the important things: hi, wow, uh-oh, all-doh (all done), ow, MaMa, DaDa and MAAAAAAAAAAAA (for Matthew).

Anyway, it is ironic that just in the last week or so I began speaking French a lot more. I really should be doing it more with the boys, and I need to keep up with it. So, I’ve decided that I’ll speak some chaque jour. Usually, when I speak French, Matthew will yell, “STOP TALKING FRENCH AT ME!!” Now he just responds to my French with a flowing-sounding, “blahblahblah, blowbleeblahbluuu, blahblahh.”

Zachary, with the help of baby sign language, too, is picking it up really quickly. Now, if I say, “Tu veux manger quelque chose?” He’ll trot right over to his high chair ready to mange (eat). And if I ask “Fini?” He’ll sign “all done.”

In the last week, that I started speaking French everyday, there have suddenly been native Francophones coming out of the wood-work! (And yes, Francophone is, actually, the real word for it. I can’t take credit for that one). We got a phone call from a woman at my therapist’s office. Her name was Veronique and by the hint of her accent, I immediately knew she was one of them. So what did I do? I spontaneously continued our conversation in French. What did she do? She continued on in English and didn’t acknowledge my Frenchly attempts.

Later that same day, up at our little neighborhood park, there was a woman speaking French to two children. So, again, I jumped at the chance and quickly started to parler with her. She was fantastic – very complimentary of my accent – and didn’t make any attempt to slow down her French or speak in English to me. It was great!

Last week, we saw Matthew’s buddy, Maxime who goes to the French Immersion School. They just got back from spending all summer in France visiting Maxime’s dad’s family. So, Maxime is completely in French mode and can’t shake it. It was so fun speaking French with a four-year-old! Patricia was telling us that when they were in France, if there was a word that Maxime didn’t know, he’d simply say it with an accent. Par example, he was telling people about his race car bed back at home, so he said, “J’ai un lit de…rrrrrace carrrrr.” (Complete with guttural French r’s).

Later, Maxime rattling on in French was being helped by Cathy (not at all a Francophone) with putting on his shoes. He’s going on and on en francais about his new Spiderman back-pack. Cathy tried explaining to him that she doesn’t speak French. So, he should speak English to most people and save the French for at home and at school. Maxime looked at Cathy for a moment and taking a big breath replied, “Oui, mais regarde mon nouveau sac-a-dos…” Cathy sighed and shook her head.

A few minutes later, I hear Cathy from the other room say, “English, par favor!”

So, back to yesterday, and our newest little French friend. When I went to pick up the boys from the Kids’ Club, the ladies were all excited to tell me about Zachary and Orphelia.

“They spent the whole time playing together…they didn’t leave each other’s side. After a while they walked around holding hands. And when Orphelia’s mom came to pick her up, Zach stood at the door, resting his head on the gate and kept waving to her. He looked so sad!”

“Hmmm…if they get married, she wouldn’t even have to change her last name!” (And I’d get to speak French even more, I thought). I’ve got it all figured out.

I’ve had plenty of time to practice my French (out loud to myself) while painting. We got the entire entryway painted. I have some more doors down now that I’m working on and am starting in on some of the doorways and trim. I’d like to get the entry way completely finished before music class starts back up in a couple of weeks. And, starting next week, life will be even busier. I’ll be watching a little boy from up the street (Nick, 2 ½ years old, very sweet, was in my music class for a while) just for the month of September. It works out to only being a 3 day week, a 4 day week and two 5 day weeks, but about 9 hours a day of having three boys ripping around to watch! I’ve got music class to get ready for and Matthew starts preschool next week, so things are getting busy!

I can’t wait to be done with this house painting project, so I can have more free time for writing. Even though I’ve been staying up late to paint, I’ve, for the most part, been managing to get up early to run or get to the gym, but I haven’t been able to write much. I’m looking forward to getting back to my book (mid-grade chapter book)….I have about 40 pages and I love it! (It’s pretty darn good, if I do say so, myself).

With three boys ripping around here for a month, I’ll have all sorts of blog material and yet no time to blog!

We’re having one last hurrah today before life gets even crazier. We have a babysitter coming to stay with Zach, and Mike and I are taking Matthew to see Ratatouille. I’m thrilled, what with all this French, to see a film about a Parisian rat! C’est trop parfait.

Breaking News: this JUST in. We interrupt this witty Blog conclusion, to inform you that a deer was JUST seen meandering through the backyard of the Martin’s. In the five years that the Martins have been in residence at 7337 127th PL, they have seen deer twice in the last two months in their yard. (Before that, wildlife consisted of squirrels, the occasional rabbit, a raccoon – once, and three random and horny ducks). This concludes our breaking news report.

[I wrote this on Aug. 25th and forgot to post it on-line!]

It’s a little scary just how brilliant these children are. Yesterday, I casually mentioned to Matthew, “Hmm, this room is a mess; we should pick up your books.” Neither Matthew nor I immediately made a move. Zachary – who was on the other side of the room – came rushing over right away and started putting books up on the shelf. He’s not even 16 months old!! (OK, well, he will be in three days, but still…)

Later, I was taping off the hallway at the bottom of the stairs getting ready to paint. Zachary wandered over to inspect what I was doing. I realized that we hadn’t changed his diaper since he’d gotten up from nap a little while before, “Zach, we need to change your diaper,” I said continuing with my taping. A moment later, I heard Zach behind me. He was handing me the packet of baby wipes. He took me by the hand and walked me over to the little Elmo sofa on the floor where he proceeded to lie down and wait for me to change him. C’est incroyable!

Matthew, who we also know is a genius beyond all measure, has reached an interesting stage of boyhood. He’s come to the place where everything is a “good guy” or a “bad guy.” Despite the fact that he’s never watched anything violent – nothing with guns – in our home, every object can and will be turned into some sort of shooting, self-defense device.

Last night, we’d gone to the neighborhood park with some of our little neighbors – Sydney and Nick. Somehow it had fallen upon my shoulders that I was the “bad guy” who was chasing them. (I was actually thinking of the game more in terms of tag or ‘catch me if you can;’ but without failure I soon found myself being referred to as “bad guy mommy.”) At one point, I ran around the play structure and found myself face-to-face with Matthew holding still and ready in a position of attack. He let loose with his version of a common boy theme, the “you’re a bad guy, and I’m going to kill you” or “Die! Bad guy!” verbal attack that accompanies the spraying or shooting of said-bad guy.

Just before he sprayed me with his imaginary “fire hose,” Matthew yelled, “You’re a bad guy and I’m going to get you to heaven!” If this is the most vicious thing that Matthew can come up with when fighting off a bad guy, I’ll take it.

* * * * *

Bob and Therese Buckley – my parental units, my kin, my folks, the spring from which I offed – are celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary tomorrow. FORTY YEARS!!! That’s a LONG time. Over the years, there were some sad times – particularly the years of “BJ” – Before Jenny – that they so fondly refer to wistfully. What, did they do for the first 13 years of marriage before my blessed arrival into their lives? I’m fairly certain that they sat on a retro, plaid sofa somewhere and twiddled their thumbs. So, while I can’t reflect on all of their forty years of marriage, I can reflect on the 27 years of which I’ve played a crucial role. I came up with a list forty things about my parents. They included everything from, having the ability to fix anything with duct tape, to sleeping on the floor in an empty condo with three chicken-pox riddled children (that's one heck of a story!), showing up on our wedding night at the ER still in their tux and mother-of-the-bride dress, making one heck of a Bourbon Slush, becoming President and First Lady (of their Condo Board), making all sorts of crafty, home-made costumes (the kind my kids will never have, once Grandma kicks the can), and they've watched "A Christmas Story" and lit their "electric sex" leg lamp in the front window for many, many years.....these are just a sampling of the many characteristics that make my parents so amazing.

What was I thinking?! How on Earth did I manage not to realize that if it all happened at once, suddenly my life would loose so very much of its’ meaning? On the same day that I had my last ever therapy session (well, at least last insurance-covered session for 2007), I had to also sadly say adieu to So You Think You Can Dance (SYTYCD) – only, possibly THE BEST reality TV show of all time which has become my best friend come Wednesday and Thursday evenings. So, my show and my therapy come crashing to an end on the same day. Then, while still reeling from the loss of those two vital aspects of my existence, an even worse reality comes to fruition. We finished Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Book 7. The end of the series. The end of an era. How, I ask you, how will I get through this?

Mike and I have read all of the Harry Potter books out loud together. We’ve read them since we were dating. We read one of the books driving to Spokane to stay with Mike’s family at the lake house. We read another one the night that we got stuck on Snoqualimie Pass in the snow storm. We had to pee in the woods next to the highway and slept in the car until 4am – reading the book outloud to keep our minds off how cold we were. We finished book 4 the week after our wedding, when we were supposed to be on our Honeymoon but instead were lying low due to Mike’s cancer. We read book 5, the summer that I was pregnant with Matthew. Mike read the entire book out loud – we finished it in a week. I didn’t read much because in-utero Matthew was pushing on my lungs and diaphragm so much I couldn’t get a deep breath. Mike read book 6 to me in the evenings while I painted the family room downstairs. And just two nights ago, we finished the series. Mike read while I painted doorframes and doors. He read and read and read. And then it was done. I don’t know how I’ll move on.

OK, but I’ll manage. I don’t have a choice – these boys keep me busy, keep my mind off of the lack of therapy, the lack of SYTYCD, the lack of Potter.

I discovered Zachary up to an interesting activity the other day. I’d left the room (the nerve! Using the restroom! What was I thinking?) and came back find that Zachary had climbed up on to the dining room table and was typing some additional comments into an email I’d been writing. I couldn’t help but keep his added note. I’m sure my friend Kate enjoyed hearing from him.

On Saturday, we went to dinner at our friends Jason and Rebecca’s house. Matthew and Joshua (2 ½) were happily playing downstairs. Rebecca had gone into the kitchen and wondered why she could hear them so well through the window. We figured it was because a window was open downstairs and their gleeful voices were carrying up to us. After a bit, I decided I better go check on them. When I got downstairs, Matthew and Joshua were no where to be found. The slider door to the backyard was open and as I approached, I could hear the hysterical laughter of the boys from outside. Matthew and Joshua had somehow managed to get the slider open – a really old, heavy LOCKED door that takes a VERY strong adult to open, mind you. They then proceeded to turn on the hose and were spraying each other and were head-to-toe completely drenched. Saturday was rainy, cold and overcast. When I came upon the boys and their activity, Matthew was happily squirting Joshua who was giggling through chattering teeth and lips that were turning blue with cold. I tried to keep my laughter hidden while Rebecca and I both firmly chastised the boys for their behavior. Matthew, who was practically holding the hose practically down his pants and with water running down his legs said, “But Joshua sprayed me. That’s how I got so wet.” Right.

Thankfully, Matthew and Joshua stayed indoors and dry today at Matthew’s (early) Birthday Play Date. For some reason, I’m in denial and just can’t admit that it really was a Birthday party. I had already scheduled our little play group to come over and figured – well, what the heck! We’ll just turn it into a little birthday play date celebration. We had five mommies, five little boys, two toddlers, and two infants. I suppose that was a party.

Matthew and I even decorated the dining room with pictures of John Deeres and Fire Trucks (the theme for this non-birthday party-birthday celebration play date). And somehow, I managed to channel my Inner Therese Buckley (mom!) and found myself with a moment of crafty. I, yes, me, jenny martin – queen of the anticrafties – carved cucumbers and yellow peppers into little John Deere tractors. I made tractors out of vegetables!! Me!!

Maybe vegetable art can be my new therapy.

Matthew just groggily stumbled out to the dining room (where I’ve been working on my laptop, Kara – as named by the almost-four-year-old). He sleepily informed me, “I had a bad dream, Mommy.”

“Oh no,” I said, wrapping my arms around him. “What was it about?”

“The monster was using his Number gun to shoot the ABC bug.”

“Wow,” I replied (trying not to smile), “that sounds pretty scary.” But how happy am I? I thought. With preschool starting back up in a couple of weeks, it’s pretty great that his bad dreams are at least educational.

Today is my last therapy session. I’m pretty bummed about it. So sad, in fact, that I might need some therapy to cope. It has been such an amazing experience – one that everyone should experience at some point in her life. I’m a little disappointed that Louise had it so easy though. I really wanted to experience an appointment where she really had to ask me questions to get me talking. (I suppose, the fact that I never ran out of material to discuss, is no big shocker). It’s been pretty great having such a guilt-free one-sided relationship. There have been times where I thought, hmm, I should probably ask about her – see how she’s doing and all. But then I thought, Nahhh. I’m paying to talk about me not her! Terrible, right? But oh-so satisfying.

I’m going to miss that hour where I sit on the green couch and take a break from my life – look at it from the outside for a bit and see what’s good, what’s not so good and what could use my energy. I feel so blessed to have had this opportunity. So, I guess, in a way, I’m thankful that I had to suffer through Post Partum Depression. While I’d never want to relive it, and it’s a darkness that I’d wish upon no one; it has forced quite the journey of self-discovery though. I also now can truly empathize with the many people I know who suffer from Depression. I think that they’re a misunderstood lot – sometimes considered as weak, making excuses or taking anti-Depressants to avoid coping with life on their own.

I’m currently weaning off of Zoloft – ahh, Zoloft, a friend and foe for this past year – but will continue on Wellbutrin for a bit. And I’m happy about that. I’ve made peace with being on the happy pills. And I’m happy that come January 1st, 2008, I’ve got 20 insurance covered therapy sessions coming my way, should I want it!

Yesterday, Matthew – who has become quite the argumentative, testing-our-limits, talking-back little boy – provided a moment of pure joy to me. I was saying that something had been a good choice (I don’t recall the specifics), and Matthew jumped up, ran over to Zachary and said, “Zachary’s a good choice!” He wrapped his arms around his little brother planted a big kiss on the top of Zach’s head and whispered, “I love you, Zachy.” That, my friends, is a dose of happy, right there.

August 13, 2007

We’re BACK! Actually we’ve been back from sunny So-Cal for a few days but have been busy battling colds. Yes, as always, we caught a bug on the plane. Mike was sick for most of the trip – though he pulled through – and the boys and I really came down with it towards the end. Despite the illness and the trip getting off to an interesting start; we had a great time.

So, yeah, the trip started out with a bang. We were up at 4am, got the boys out of their beds at 4:30 and headed to SeaTac. Upon checking in at 5ish for our 7am flight, we were informed, “Oh, by the way, your flight is cancelled. The pilot didn’t show. The next flight, direct to Ontario, CA is at 1pm.” Right. We debated on whether or not we should head home, but we’d already paid for the parking garage, taken the car seats out (installing Zach’s is a mega-pain), had all of our luggage, etc. So, we bit the bullet and spent 8 hours hanging out at SeaTac before even boarding our plane. And, believe it or not, it was the best airport experience of my life and so much fun!

We had to wait four hours before we could even check our luggage and get through security, so supplied with tons of food vouchers, we bought some goodies and coffee from the one open espresso stand and set up camp by the empty baggage claim. We had the place pretty much to ourselves and boy did we make the most of it! The boys would’ve been surfing the baggage belt if I’d let them (and we did think about it), but we spent most of our time riding the escalators up and down and sprinting across the empty sky bridge. Once we were able to check in, we had all of SeaTac at our finger tips. We bought (and ate) tons of food and found the coolest airport-themed, indoor playground for kids! It was great! By the way, the flight went well too, and Matthew thoroughly enjoyed chewing gum for the first time.

Our Engaged Encounter Convention was great. We went to workshops, the boys played in the daycare, we swam in the hotel pool, danced and drank and ate. Zach and I got up early on Sunday morning (and since Mike wasn’t feeling well and Matthew was still sleeping), we headed out for a run. The foothills surrounding Ontario were cloaked in a fog so thick I couldn’t make them out. Sadly, with my throat burning, I eventually realized that it was SMOG and not fog. Talking to friends at the Convention later, I found out that years ago, the smog was so bad that they used to cancel school due to health concerns. My friend’s mom would cover his face with a cold wet washcloth. When she removed it there would be a black circle on the cloth where he had been breathing. Crazy.

We spent Sunday afternoon at the big mall in Ontario, then drove to our new hotel near Disneyland, did laundry and swam in the pool. Monday morning we were up bright and early to catch the shuttle to Disneyland. We got through the main gate and headed straight to the new Finding Nemo submarine ride. The park had only been open for about fifteen minutes and there was already a TWO HOUR wait to ride the submarine. Mike and I took turns walking the boys around while the other slowly creeped up in line. By the time we made it on the ride, Zach was fast asleep in the backpack. Oh well, he wouldn’t have remember it anyway, though he would have loved all the fishies. Mike and Matthew shot “bad robot guys” (according to Matthew) on the Buzz Light Year Astroblasters ride. Then, we all went on the circus train ride, the boys and I went on the carousel, and we drove cars at Autotopia. We paid WAY too much for lunch. Rode the big schooner ship, then Matthew braved the Thunder Mountain Railroad rollercoaster with Mike. Matthew was only slightly traumatized (he didn’t like the dark tunnels). Then I got to do the ride before Mike and Matthew headed to Pirates of the Caribbean. (Where Matthew was traumatized by the shooting pirates). I went and did Space Mountain and the Matterhorn. We went on It’s a Small World – Zachary’s favorite (he couldn’t decide where to look, what to point at and whether he wanted to sit or stand). We also went in the Tiki Room (which we all loved…until the thunderstorm which Matthew didn’t like). We caught the parade – where Matthew was traumatized by the Ursula the Sea Witch float and where Zachary fell in love with one of the parade ladies (even blew her kisses). We met up with Mike’s dad, Jim and stepmom, Annelies for dinner back by our hotel. The boys (and I) fell into the dangerous zone of post-Happiest Place on Earth crankiness and attempted to get to bed a little early (which ended up being 10pm).

We slept in Tuesday morning and then set out to California Adventure. The boys and I rode the Under the Sea carousel while Mike rode the California Screamin’ roller coaster. He then joined us for the Bugs Life rides that the boys LOVED. Matthew loved driving the Bumper Bugs, the spinning ladybugs, the “silly hungry Caterpillar train” and Flik’s Flyers (where we flew inside a huge Chinese take-out box). Jim and Annelies joined us and the two of them, Matthew and I rode the Soarin’ over California ride. (You sit strapped in a seat that lifts up and moves like an airplane/glider in front of a huge movie screen showing views of California). Matthew loved it…until he was traumatized by the loud planes and the fireworks. After that, Mike, Jim and Annelies went on Tower of Terror (the highlight, for Mike) and the boys and I watched the 3-D Muppet Movie (which Matthew liked until the fireworks and loud explosions at the end). Do you sense a theme? Basically Matthew loved Disneyland except for…something…on every single ride! We watched a live stage show in which Mickey magically appeared at the end. Zach immediately started rushing the stage waving and yelling “hi…hi…hi” at Mickey. It was very cute.

That night, we had dinner with Jim and Annelies and got to meet her son Erik for the first time. Erik is a 19 year old surfer dude studying to be a nurse. He was SO nice and fun and the boys LOVED him. Wednesday morning, we went to their motel for breakfast and then we all went to Huntington Beach for the day where we got to watch Erik surf. I quizzed Erik on surfing and surf culture and decided that in another life I should be a surfer chick. I’d be one now except that I look frightening in a bikini; I get lobster red instead of golden tan, I don’t have sun-kissed highlighted blond hair (my hair gets bigger and bushier with sand and water); and I’m probably way too chicken to even try surfing. But despite my lack of California beachiness, we all had a blast at the beach (and yes, got a little sunburned). We had a quiet night at the hotel and packed up for the trip home.

The flight home was a little bit harder for Zach. He was SO done with sitting down, being strapped in or tethered to anything. Once we were able, he and I pretty much paced the aisle the whole flight. He was the Walmart greeter of Flight 435, waving, saying hi, giving high-fives and making everyone on-board his new best friend.

As predicted, we arrived home tired, sick, cranky and ready for a vacation! We had a great trip and we’re so happy to be back home.

Last night was the most fun Book Club ever! (And coincidentally I hosted). I fixed a big salad and a bunch of easy appetizers. We dined out on the deck under the striped umbrella. We were all dolled up and looked marvelous, I might add. We had sparkling lemonade with frozen berry sparkling water ice cubes in wine glasses, followed by some chilled French Rosé. Excellente, bien sur! I provided ridiculously cute children for entertainment. Then, when dessert time rolled around, Kendra abruptly stood up and quite rudely announced “Well, I’m leaving. Bye.” I followed suit and said something to the effect of “yes, me too…and you should all come. It’s time for dessert…and it’s not here.” Three of our ladies – Kelly, Molly and Adrienne all turn 30 this summer/fall, so we surprised them with drinks and chocolate fondue for dessert at the Melting Pot. It was so fun! They were completely befuddled when Kendra abruptly got up to leave and had no idea where we were going. We got them each a magazine subscription for their interests – for Molly, entertainment; Adrienne is a crafty gal; and Kelly is our International traveler.

We may not travel to the exotic places like Kelly, but it doesn’t get much more exciting that Ontario, California, now does it? We head to So-Cal at the butt-crack of dawn. Why do we always schedule flights for 6am? Come 4am tomorrow – we’ll whisk the boys from their slumber and head to the airport. First trip with two kiddos – oye; should be interesting. Thankfully the flight is only 2 ½ hours long.

We just got the coolest baby item ever to make the trip even better -- the Ergo Baby. It's a front pack carrier, backpack or hip sling. It's totally comfortable and works really well for bigger kids (up to 40pounds). I don’t know how I survived life for the last 3 ½ years without the Ergo Baby (infomercial to follow, I’m sure). We're also going with one stroller and the good 'ol toddler leash.

Now, the toddler leash…this is something that I’ve been against since I once saw a woman “walking her kid” at the park. She really was walking her child like one walks a dog. She would pause while the kid explored something off the path; then ready to move on, she’d give the leash a little tug to indicate it was time to go. I vowed then and there that I would never do something as cruel as leashing my child. That was before my parents gave us one a couple of nights before we went to California exactly two years ago. (Matthew was one month shy of two). Even as we graciously received the gift of parental-inflicted child torture, I knew we’d never actually use it but promised to pack it in the diaper bag “just incase” (fat chance, I thought). The second we landed in LAX airport, I was pulling open that toddler leash package like a crazy lady. We got comments everywhere we used it – Knotts Berry Amusement Park, Disneyland, SeaWorld – that it was such a smart thing to have. Several people asked where I’d gotten it (hoping that they could buy one right then and there) – including one security guard who said that helping find lost toddlers was a daily occurrence and he wished all parents would be as smart. (OK, thanks Mom and Dad). I even ran into a woman with triplet two year old boys who was trying desperately to keep their leashes untangled.

We’re heading on our trip prepared with toddler leash, Ergo baby backpack, stroller, and la piece de resistance: bright matching outfits for the boys. Disneyland day one – they’ll be in bright orange striped t-shirts; Disneyland day two – the same striped shirt in bright green. For the Fiesta party at the Engaged Encounter Convention, they’ll be sporting matching Hawaiian shirts and navy shorts. They also have matching blue striped shirts and matching navy blue t-shirts featuring a red bulldozer that says “Move it”…or maybe it’s “Push it” (whatever). The point is, we’ve become one of those families. (I have to draw the line somewhere though. Mike will not be in a matchy match match’ems striped polo shirt and I don’t have matching jumper dresses made from the same fabric. Come on, I’m not that bad…besides I didn’t seen any at the store).

This weekend was all about birthday parties. Our first on Saturday was a celebration for the 4th birthday of our dear little pal, Abby Stucki. Abby had selected the wondrous place of Chuck E. Cheese for her festivities. I will always remember Chuck E. Cheese as the unattainable from my youth. I think we went there once briefly (maybe it was for a birthday party for one of Tim’s friends); I don’t remember. I was really little but I’m fairly certain that I was scarred for life because I didn’t get to play in the ball pit. I’m working through it at therapy though, no worries.

So, it was with much excitement all around that we arrived at Chuck E. Cheese on Saturday afternoon. Within two minutes of walking into the herds of sugar-filled, sensory-overloaded children, I realized that I wanted out. Matthew did too. He panicked. The noise, the lights, the action, the bigger than life size puppet animal band that sings too loudly – it was all too much for him. (And great practice for Disneyland next week). Mike was able to calm Matthew down, though the first thing he said to Larissa – Mother of the Birthday Girl was “I’m really freaked out.” Zach was, of course, ready to party – he was off in a run. I should’ve brought the Toddler Leash so that HE could practice for Disneyland.

We ended up having a fun, chaos-filled time. It wasn’t even well organized chaos though. The underpaid, under-age employees made a lame attempt at leading the kids in the most enthusastismLESS rendition of “If you’re happy and you know it…” that I’ve ever seen. I think they should’ve been singing, “If you hate your job and have a constant headache, clap your hands….If you wish you worked anywhere other than Chuck E. Cheese stomp your feet…”

Sunday’s party was a bit more up Matthew’s alley. Nicholas Coy’s 4th birthday was celebrated at a farm – complete with animal feeding and petting. Matthew and Zach were, of course, both clad in bright green John Deere t-shirts. Matthew braved feeding the sheep and the horses, and he pet the bunny and the pony. He was very disappointed however with the lack of tractors – particularly of the John Deere persuasion. He was definitely there in the hopes of tractor petting. Enough with the boring ‘ol farm animals! Where are the John Deeres?!

Matthew insisted on wearing his John Deere t-shirt to Church last night. When we walked up for Communion, Father Rob – who is the most kid-friendly priest that I’ve ever met – squatted down to give Matthew a blessing. He then said, “Hey! Cool shirt!” Matthew stood there for a minute, mystified that the priest acknowledged his John Deere shirt in the Communion line. He then held up the line a little bit more to say to Father Rob, “Yeah, it’s a John Deere shirt!” As we walked back to our seats, Matthew grinned at me and said, “He’s a John Deere priest!” Yes, he was even wearing “John Deere green” vestments. After Mass, Father Rob told Matthew that he’s from Wisconsin and his sister is the CFO for Case Tractors. She’s a John Deere traitor. Matthew half-smiled and said, “I was a really good boy in church. Do I get to go play on the [playground] toys now?”

A Fairly Typical Morning and John Deeres Don’t Speak Russian!

It’s 7:30am. I have no idea what time Matthew wandered out to the sofa to continue his slumber, but there he rests. Once Matthew is asleep he is OUT. I’ve cut his fingernails, trimmed his hair and even vacuumed in his room when he’s been asleep. It comes to no surprise to me, now, that Matthew has remained asleep while Zachary and I are out here making some noise. But it appears that Zach is on a mission to test just how deep Matthew’s sleep really is.

Every time I look over, Matthew’s got a different object piled on him or placed carefully in his hand. Random toys have been clutched sleepily in his hand as has Blankie which Zachary seems to have lovingly shared with his brother (the ultimate sign of affection). Matthew has continued snoring throughout my attempts to wipe Zach’s runny nose (accompanied by tortured screams…his, not mine) and Zach kicking the entire high chair tray down to the floor while I fed him breakfast.

When I was in the kitchen preparing oatmeal, Zach was wandering about inflicting all sorts of brotherly love on sleeping Matthew. I heard a thwack, thwack, thwack. Hmmm, that’s one I better check out. Zachary was whacking Matthew on the head with his empty bottle. Ahhh, sweet revenge! That’s what you get, big brother, for never sharing your John Deere tractors with me. Mooouuuahhh-ahhh-ahhhh! [evil baby laugh]. Matthew merely rubbed his head, grunted and rolled over.

* * * * *

On Saturday, we rode the ferry to Vashon Island for our yearly Engaged Encounter BBQ. Of course this year was a little bit more stressful for us as Mike and I are the Coordinators and therefore sort-of “in charge.” (A scary thought)! Not only did we have to pack our boys and all of their necessities for a long day at the beach but we also brought two huge coolers – one full of raw meat products for the grill and one full of booze. (Catholics know how to party)!

Mike carefully researched the ferry boat times to figure out which we should be on. We arrived with no problems; made sure we were in the right line and eagerly awaited the arrival of our boat. After about 30 minutes wait, engines were starting and cars began to drive on to the ferry. All I could do was laugh when our engine wouldn’t start; Mike had left the lights on. Turns out this is a fairly typical occurrence and one of the ferry employees told us that we were “the fourth dead battery of the morning! And it’s only 10am!” They’re completely prepared for this, and within minutes another employee rolled up a battery on a cart and started ours in seconds. We made our ferry no problem with only a little bit of uncalled for excitement.

The highlight of Zach’s day was baptizing himself in the cold and salty Puget Sound. The day was overcast a but a little warm with occasional sprinkles; I hadn’t stripped him down to his swim trunks ‘cuz it was just a little too cold for that. I’d brought plenty of changes of clothes. I didn’t intend for him to get completely soaked head-to-toe though, but I realized after fighting it, that wetness was inevitable. Zachary splashed and kicked in the water and repeatedly dunked his forehead in, grinning from ear-to-ear every time he stood up.

Matthew’s day will always be remembered as the day that he met and fell in love with Nastya. Nastya is a 16 year-old exchange student from Belarus who speaks Russian and hardly any English – though she’s learning! Nastya will be staying with our friends Tom and Elaine and their two teenage girls for six weeks this summer. Matthew took a liking to Nastya on the ferry ride back home. He dragged her all around the boat, pointing out the extinguishers that the “fighterfighters” use to put out fires. Nastya told Matthew what those things were called in Russian.

Back in the car, Matthew kept trying to understand this Nastya and foreign language business. “Why does she speak French?” he asked. (Matthew assumes all other languages are French since he’s familiar with my occasional attempts to speak it to the boys). The entire ride home we explained to Matthew that Nastya speaks Russian and lives on the other side of the world. Later, I showed him on a map where Belarus was. (I’m pretty sure that’s the first time I’ve ever researched the where-abouts of Belarus).

As a thank you for our hard work as Coordinators, Tom and Elaine and their girls (Nastya included) offered to watch the boys the next night while we went to a movie. (Harry Potter)! Matthew had been talking nonstop about Nastya and how he’d share his John Deeres with her. Turns out that the sharing came with strings attached. When Nastya’s tractors started answering Matthew’s in Russian, he emphatically cried, “No! No! John Deeres don’t speak Russian!!!”

Upon our return, the Haydens filled us in on this, their favorite Matthewism of the evening. Mike’s response was, “John Deeres in Russia probably speak Russian!” Hmmm, do they have John Deeres in Russia? It must be like how the cows in France say “Mu” instead of “Moo,” and the dogs don’t woof, they “oauh oauh.”

I called Mike this afternoon to inform him that our children are driving me to insanity. He asked if I was taking them with me. Yes, it’s very probably that we are driving each other totally nuts!

Matthew has become proficient in the art of back-talking, baby-talking, lying and aggressive behavior(ing). When I asked him after a time-out yesterday what he’d done to put him there he proceeded to list an entire litany of all his wrong-doings. Oh, he knows when he’s making a bad chance…and he’s almost proud of it! When I asked him why he had done these things he seriously informed me, “’cuz the bad guys in my head think it’s funny.” Great. I told him to ignore the bad guys in his head and try to just listen to the good ones.

He definitely has his really good moments. The other day after bath he was naked (that’s what happens when you bathe, you see) and we were brushing his teeth before getting into jammies. He asked me if I’d ever seen a naked pirate before? “Noooo,” I hesitantly responded. He proceeded to put his drinking cup over his hand (like a hook), squinted his eye (for a patch), and said “Arrrr, matey!” Pretty funny.

Zachary is quite the character too, these days. He’s a walking fool now – moving everywhere with rapid toddler speed. He’s great at baby sign language. So far he knows please, help, more, thank you, milk and water. He blows kisses like you wouldn’t believe, cuddles on command and waves hello and goodbye with unequalled enthusiasm.
Zachary has a bit of a cold (as do the rest of us Martins). He’s been waking up in the middle of the night begging for sympathy for his snot-and-phlegm-induced-distress. Mike or I will eventually stumble into his room, where we’re greeted with Blankie being shoved in our face (the ultimate show of cuddliness) followed by little outstretched arms. We plop with Zachary and Blankie into the chair where he’ll often snuggle down for a good cuddle. Occasionally, our book-loving-boy – despite it being 4am and pitch black in his room – will scurry off my lap in lightning speed to the book shelf where he begins grabbing board books and handing them to me in rapid succession. Upon realizing that I have no intention of reading him books, he starts to get a little ticked. I’m usually able to settle him back down until he realizes that I do have every intention of placing him back into his crib (aka: baby jail). Then, what follows is not a scream, nor a sob, nor lengthy crying. Nay, my friends it is a combination of all three PLUS the added yells and shouts of BABY PROFANITY. I can’t begin to type here precisely the profane curses directed our way (primarily because I don’t know how to spell them but also because I’m sure that they’re completely inappropriate and not for a PG-13 crowd).

We had a great weekend presenting on the Engaged Encounter retreat. We not only had a good retreat but we managed to survive our first overnight (two of them, actually!) separation from both boys. My parents reported that the boys were very good at their place. They took on the Martin boy mania with a specific tactic: “Divide and Conquer.” Matthew went to the beach with Grandma while Zach napped. Chris brought Zach to ride the tricycle downstairs so Matthew could play John Deeres/have quiet time. Matthew “helped” my dad move some rocks in their garden (I’m sure the job would’ve been nearly impossible without his assistance). And Zach had an outing to the park with D-Dad. As far as we can tell, after a weekend watching both of our children, my parents’ condo building is still standing and they’re still speaking to us.

Not that we had much to say to them. After a weekend of non-stop speaking (giving presentations to the 34 engaged couples) and schmoozing and visiting at meals, we (yes, even me!!!) were ready for a break from chit-chat. Getting to hear the different couples’ stories is one of my favorite things about doing EE. First of all, there are always the few that I really want to conquer. They come into the retreat with all this attitude, like “we already know everything there is to no about each other, we couldn’t possibly benefit from this crazy, touchy-feely-overly-Churchy [which it’s not, by the way] retreat. We’d be so much better off staying home.” If that’s you’re attitude…well, good luck with that. If you think you already know everything there is to no about your fiancé, then you better just quit now; your marriage and life will be SO boring! You’re donating an entire half-year to a year to plan your wedding and you can’t be bothered to set aside one weekend to spend focusing on your PSU (Potential Spousal Unit), your relationship and your upcoming marriage?! The motto of Engaged Encounter is “The wedding is a day, the marriage is a lifetime.” We definitely have a story to share since our wedding day wasn’t the most ideal. Anyway, after being forced to come on the weekend and listening to the talks, writing and dialoguing we rarely get a negative evaluation at the end. Even the bad attitude couples usually write something like, “Yeah, I really didn’t want to come this weekend, but I’m so glad that I did. I learned new things about my fiancé,” etc.

So, there are always a few couples that, for various reasons, stand out to me on the weekends. There were two on this particular weekend. I don’t actually have all that much to say about the first couple, just merely the fact that she was 16 and he was 18!!!!! They aren’t getting married until she graduates next year, but still. Holy Moly! And some people thought that we were too young to be getting married at 21!

The most intriguing couple to me this weekend were Suzy and Bo (not their real names, by the by). Bo first dated Suzy’s sister. Yeah, that’s pretty crazy in itself. Then after a bit Bo and Suzy’s sis broke up, shortly thereafter Suzy’s sis realized that Suzy and Bo were meant for each other, so she made the suggestion that Suzy and Bo date. Things went well and went quickly. Suzy (who is 21) lives at home with her parents, shares a room with her sister, and works on her parents’ dairy farm (located an hour north of Seattle). Bo and Suzy’s dates usually consist of chatting while milking 150 cows, sharing dinner with her family or “visiting in the parlor.” After they are married they will live in a trailer in the front yard of her family’s home. Both Suzy and her sister were home-schooled. Their parents just had a baby three years ago (so Suzy is 18 years older than her sibling). Suzy and Bo hope to have between 4-6 children who they will home-school and raise along with Suzy’s youngest sister. Suzy wore a gingham, plaid dress and cardigan sweater today and Bo wore a plaid shirt, jeans with large belt buckle and iron-toe work boots. Suzy gets up at 5 every morning and milks cows for 2 ½ hours. She then does other chores around the farm (such as mending fences, baling hay, etc.). From 5:30-7:30 every evening she milks the cows again. She’s even churned butter (but only once “because we realized that it was way too much work”).

Look, I realize that I’m a complete and total City Girl and completely clueless about the farming/country life. But isn’t that crazy and so cool?! I know that they were pretty amused – and hopefully not offended – by my inquiries about life on a farm. I like to think that my evident ignorance actually comes off as childlike wonder and fascination. I asked if they drink their own cows’ milk. Suzy replied in the affirmative. I then said, “That must be I really fresh milk. Is it nonfat? 1%? 2% Oh, wait, it’s Whole Milk, huh?” Suzy answered, “Yes, it’s definitely more whole than anything they sell in the store.” The other couple at the table was kind enough not to laugh at me too much, and Mike gave me a supportive and “oh, you’re so pathetic and yet so cute in your ignorance” kind of pat on the back. But man! Once I learned that Suzy has churned butter, I couldn’t help myself. I exclaimed, “Wow! You’re practically living in the Little House on the Prairie.” I am proud of myself that I refrained from adding “or in this case Little Trailer in Your Parents’ Front Yard.”

I told Mike that someday I’d love to spend a week…well maybe a couple of days, on a farm really experiencing rural life. He thinks I’m nuts, and that I’d never make it. I wonder if that’s due to the fact that as soon as we venture out past city limits (still in the suburbs though), the first question I always ask people is “How long does it take you to get to the grocery store? And more importantly, Starbucks?” Yeah, baling hay, milking cows and churning butter…how would I get my latte drunk while it’s still warm while doing all that?!

Look, it’s not you; it’s me. I just have to take a break – from updating my BLOG and writing, in general. It’s not that I want to be on a break. I do actually miss you, a lot. But somehow, once again, the Household Projects Fairy has stopped at our house and just won’t seem to leave. She always visits me in the summer. For me, hot weather means painting…inside. The weather heats up and I start looking around thinking, “OK, Rainbow House…what color have we not yet done and what surface is yet to be touched?” I start looking at my hands thinking, “Gosh, you look so naked with out any random splatters of paint…we better fix that.”

So, I decided to paint the kitchen. This was a fairly spontaneous idea. I started thinking “color” after a playdate at my friend Molly’s house. She is one of those gals who is a master decorator and crafty queen. It really intrigues me. When I’m in a house with all these soft, warm, neutral colors, I feel so calm and it just feels so homey to me. Then I come home and paint a bright red bathroom or our entire basement that looks like mint chocolate chip ice cream got splattered all over the walls. Anyway, I decided to tone it down a bit this time. I took the leftover yellow from Matthew’s room, added quite a bit of white and voila! We have Sunny Surprise…or Pale Moonlight…or Golden Glow…or…Sorta Saffron…or Not White but Yellowish. (Hmmm, maybe my career as a Paint Namer will have to wait). I think I decided on Thursday to subtedly hint to Mike that I was in the painting spirit. (He’s not a huge fan of the Household Projects Fairy. After all, her visits – though always worthwhile in the end, are often lengthy, messy and involve extra work for him). Mike was invited to a guys’ game night on Saturday night so I thought, “hmmm….time. To myself. What could I do? I’ll paint the kitchen before he gets home!” And believe it or not, for once my crazy plan worked! I had the place taped, tarped and painted before he walked in the door!

Apparently the yellow kitchen fix just wasn’t enough to get the Household Projects Fairy off my back (she’s quite persistent). So, despite the fact that the Clutter Monster has thrown up all over our house, the Cranky Demon seems to have taken over the children, and my arch nemesis LAUNDRY hates me and just won’t leave me alone…for some reason, I thought, hey! Now would be a GREAT time to remove all the ‘70’s poo-brown doors in the house and prime ‘em and paint ‘em white. (At least I’m actually painting something white and not a different rainbow shade). My long term goal is to get all of the doors and trim in the entire house de-poo-browned. This, will take some time. I need to get over my mentality that once I start a big household project I should just go, go, go until I get the ENTIRE thing done. I also dream of painting the hallway a sandy color (“Tuscan Winds”) and doing a shade darker accent in the entry way (“Soul Mate” – a sandy brown with a hint of mauve to go with the living room wall). That way all of the white trim will look even better. I don’t know how I’ll actually prime and paint trim – trim that is basically on the floor and VERY accessible to children. Some of my dreams just might have to wait until they start school. Or maybe I can ship them off to a Cranky Demon Exorcism Day Camp. They do have those, right?

And on top of everything else going on, Zachary has decided he hates his crib. He starts crying the second we put him in Baby Jail. After many attempts last night to calm him down, we did the whole horrible-parent “We’ll just let him cry it out” thing. He’d been gesturing to Stan, the big fan in the hallway. (Yes, we name inanimate objects). I thought maybe Stan was freaking him out. So, I plunked ZJ in the crib (er, I mean gently and lovingly placed him and snuggled him into his place of slumber) and closed his door behind me. A couple of minutes later I was helping Matthew brush his teeth when I heard a very quiet tapping at Zach’s door. (Thankfully, Mommyhood comes with Super Human Hearing when it comes to the safety or bad choices of your kids). I opened Zach’s door and yeah. There he was. Crying and carrying on like it was no big deal that he had somehow scaled up and over his crib railing to free himself from the confines of crib jail.

Right. Again we wonder how much of the Steroids (that I was treated with in the hospital to keep him cooking) are still cooking inside of him. By the way, new pictures of SpiderBaby and brother can be seen at http://mikenjennymartin.home.comcast.net

Ahh, God Bless America. The aftermath of the 4th of July with children is perhaps even more exciting and unexpected than a large fireworks display. Our little people are probably scarred for life and cranky beyond all imagination!

We actually had a great 4th. Although last night as we tried to comfort the boys from the occasional booms of firecrackers and the general wickedness of over-fatigue, we asked ourselves if it was really all worth it. I’m sure we’ll be asking the same thing next year on July 5th, when we do it all again – get them sugared up, over-excited and keep them up late.

Yesterday started with an early morning wildlife sighting here at the Martin Natural Wildlife Preserve. I know, I know. You’ve not been all that impressed with our mating bunnies and the bizarre love-triangle of ducks that’s taken place in our yard, but hang in there; this was well worth the wait. I was getting ready for my 7 miler with Andrea, I took a break from Vaselining my toes (combating running blisters) when I saw something out the front, living room window. At first I thought it was a weird skinny dog, like maybe a Greyhound, but it only took me a moment to realize that there was a deer – yes, a real life DEER – crossing the street and walking up into our front yard. There were actually two! Now, I’m not much of an outdoorsy girl, nor do I know all the technical terms for wildlife, but I’m fairly certain that these were does and maybe one was youngish (therefore, most likely one was the mama deer). When I was telling my parents of the deer visitation in our yard, Mom suggested maybe one was a yearling since it didn’t look all that young but not old either. I think I’m going to start referring to Zach as a yearling. When people ask me at the grocery store how old he is (like when I’m pulling him off the top of the grocery cart that he’s been riding like a surfboard), I’ll smile sweetly and say, “He’s a yearling.” (For some reason, I feel that should be said with a soft Irish brogue).

Anyway, back to the actual yearling in our yard (hmm, so then would it be a yardling?! I don’t see why not). They munched my neighbor’s floral growies (again, I’m not one for technical terminology) long enough for me to sneak out the front door and get a picture. They had crossed the street into our neighbor’s yard by the time Andrea arrived for our run. We were quite concerned about them getting back to the woods on Cougar Mountain via the busy street – Coal Creek – without using the crosswalk. Our neighborhood is called “Newport Woods” – but there aren’t really any woods in our suburb that I’m aware of. I’d be fine with the deers making our yard their home but our resident wildlife – the bunnies and the threesome of ducks – might get a little upset.

So, we had a great run in the morning, a quiet-ish afternoon (only having to scrape Matthew off the ceiling once after a round of neighborhood firecrackers was set off and terrified him for life), and then we packed up and set out for Bellevue where we always spend the 4th. For the last several years, we’ve met up with friends in the downtown park for a picnic dinner, fun, festivities and fireworks display. Last year we, along with our childbirth class friends (Megan, husband Kelly and son Jack – who Matthew adores with every bit of his soul) stuck out the rain to watch the fireworks show, this year we survived the heat – it was 85, sunny, clear and beautiful. My parents – who just walk up from their place for the show at 10 – were willing to keep Zach with them. (So, we didn’t have to worry about chasing him around and he went to bed at a normal-ish time).

I took Matthew and Jack over to the fire truck where they got new firemen hats and stickers. They also got to see inside the back of an ambulance AND sit in the front seats. We only got in a little bit of a trouble. To Matthew it was, “Don’t close that door, son,” and to Jack it was, “Don’t climb over the seats, son.” Some good Kodak moments, I assure you. I’ll harass Mike to get our pictures up soon…we’re way overdue (no real shocker there).

Matthew was definitely nervous about the fireworks and has talked for days about how he’d get to hold Green Bear and that Green Bear would growl at the “thunderworks” and scare them away. He came up with a method of “self-talk” (that would be my therapy talking) that seemed to calm him down pre-show; he kept telling us that he was going to “poop out the fireworks.” We’re not sure where that came from, and I can’t imagine that that would be pleasant, but it did seem to help – for a while. Also, during the evening, he managed to bite into a glow stick. I won’t be surprised if he does have interesting, glowing post-4th-feces. I’ll keep you posted. (OK, no, I won’t).

In the end, the pooping out of fireworks technique didn’t work and he got pretty upset when the show started (despite Green Bear’s presence, Mike and I sandwiching him between us, Matthew’s hood up over his head AND his Matthew-Martin-ear-covering-technique – just fold ‘em over). Thankfully, sitting on Grandma’s lap eventually was the best idea, and we all got to listen to her running commentary, “Oooh, a John Deere green one! Those are my favorite. Ahhhh…Oh, that was a big boomer one, we don’t like those, huh? Wee! They look like rocket ships. Ooooh….Ahhhh…” Hey, whatever works.

Unfortunately, by the time we got the boys home at 11:30 there were still firecrackers going off in the neighborhood (thankfully, this is the last year they’re legal in Newcastle, WA !!!). Matthew was tired enough that they didn’t distress him too much. Zachary, however had a second wind, was wide awake and pretty freaked out. He came up with his own version of “soothing self-talk” – it involved the right combination and placement of comfort items: cuddling with mommy or daddy, holding blankie up to his nose, sucking his thumb, holding on to a bottle, and occasionally pointing at the picture of a dog in his favorite board book and growling. (All animals, according to Zachary growl. This includes: cats, dogs, ducks, rabbits, and deer in our front yard or that we’ve seen on runs. He seems to be taking after my knowledge of nature – which isn’t much). In the end, he gave up (OK, we gave up and just put him in his crib) and fell asleep.

It’s 10AM, July 5th – Matthew hasn’t even woken up yet, and Zach was up early and is already back in his crib asleep! We know how to wear these kids out!