2 year anniversary

Lucy has now passed the two year anniversary of her open-heart surgery. And while she has yet to have her yearly check up I have no doubt she will pass with flying colors. If for no other reason then she will simply announce, "I'm okay" as she does after each tumble. And any child who believes she can will the rain to stop simply by looking out the windown and saying "NO RAIN" must indeed have a special kind of healthy heart.

I have never really written about the time surrounding Lucy's surgery and the months leading up to it. I thought perhaps I would try and do so this year, but the truth is the feelings and emotions are still too raw. Or, to be more accurate, because they are still to raw I have buried them deep inside and have not yet released them.

I spent much of the time in a self imposed self protecting fog. It's a place I know well. It's the place I went during all my own surgeries I had as a kid. I was the happy kid in the hospital. I have seen chart notations that talk about 'the patient is in good spirits, singing Christmas Carols to other children on the ward' (Christmas Carols in June!) but clearly all was not so good in the subconscious of my mind because other notations say, 'patient calls out for mother in sleep, but when comforted insists she is fine. Patient also asks someone to make sure her mother has eaten something'

I don't remember much of those years. I see photos of a smiling upbeat blonde girl in various body casts and I know she is me, but I am just as amazed at everyone else at her resilence and bravery. But, I do not recognize her as me...

Lucy will not have any memories from her surgery either, but that is because she was 4 1/2 months old. But we will tell her the story of her scar, show her the photos of her and her feeding tubes. She will know that the scar is a part of her and therefore something that adds to her story. It is a beautiful scar because it means 'life'.

Just like mommy

Ms. L is very busy studying her role models these days. And it appears that I am her favorite subject. She began her studies in a very offhanded manner. It was so subtle at first I hardly understood what she was doing.

The first time I noticed it was when she was walking around the house tippy-toe on one foot and flat-footed with the other. After my overactive imagination went thru a million 'this child has something wrong with her' scenarios, I realized she was limping, like me. She was deliberately trying to copy my walk. My heart did a little tiny gasp and, in a rare moment of clarity, I smiled and moved on . I didn't correct her or tell her to stand up straight, I just let it be.

After the limping incident I began to notice she was doing all sort of things that I do. I was talking to her the other day and noticed my shirt was bunched and wrinkled, without even thinking about it I smoothed my shirt down and continued our conversation only to notice that she also began to smooth the 'wrinkles' on her shirt.

Almost daily she follows me into the bathroom during my morning routine. We brush our teeth together, she brushes her hair and asks (okay, sometimes she demands) to put "make-a-up" on. So, I hand her a blush brush and she goes to town whisking imaginary colors on her face. Some days she smiles so sweetly I give in and she gets a little lip balm too.

Then there was the sweetest moment of all; I was cuddling with her one evening, trying to help her settle in after a particularly long day, and I found myself curled up and tucking my hands under my cheek and chin. I looked over in time to see her peering intently at me, with those baby blue eyes, and slowly she tucks her hands under her face as well. And the sweetest look of satisfaction came over her as she sighed deeply and drifted off to sleep... a job well done.

"N-F Wohlmut you got out of bed right now!!" oh, yeah did I forget to mention that in addition to the sweet and lovely moments of imitation there are those other moments that you wish you could just sweep under the rug? Sigh... it's true, she's also mastering the hands on hip stance and that special tone of voice (some might say bossy) when trying to cajole her brother to do what she wants. At least this morning before she jumped to bossy I did hear her try a little tenderness, "rise and shine N. time to gweet the day.... N-F Wohlmut, you get out of bed right now!"

And they same imitation is the sincerest form of flattery!

"If the second one had been the first one there would never have been a second one."

"L, what are you doing?"

"Color da wall."

"Please don’t color the wall, crayons belong on the paper"

"Color da floor"

"No L, if you can’t keep the crayons on the paper I’ll take the crayons away"

"Color da chair"

"Okay, L time to put the crayons away"

"NOOOOO" and with arms like moving windmills she sends crayons flying around the kitchen. N and I must duck and take cover. A granny smith apple green narrowly misses my head while tickle me pink bounces off the chair and into a bowl of cheerios. I belly crawl across the kitchen floor with as the colorful missiles continue to fly around my head. I reach the launching pad and manage to stop the assault. When I finally look at Miss L, I see nothing but those big blue eyes and an impish grin. While biting the insides of my cheeks to keep from laughing out loud, I tell her to pick up the crayons, not expecting but, hoping for full compliance. Instead she dashes to the end of the hallway and announces, "gonna get a timeout" and sits herself right down. Then right on cue begins to cry quietly, and indignantly so I can see it's for real.

Just as I am about to fetch her from her self imposed exile N (sensing a golden opportunity to erase what few memories are left from his ‘terrible-twos") executes a brilliant play and says, "Don’t worry Mama, it’s okay. I’ll pick up the crayons". And for good measure he pats me on the back.

And in this moment I see the next 15 years played out over and over again in my mind.

90 minutes in the life

We went to the library on Monday. We tend to go to the library most Monday’s, but it had been awhile so the kids were excited to go. We bundle up against the elements put L in the stroller and away we go. N immediately wants to push L in the stroller. My first instinct is to say, "no", but I don’t. I let him push the stroller. Surprise, no one dies! L giggles in delight as N weaves all over the sidewalk, and I bite my tongue to keep from telling him to, "push the stroller straight. Don’t weave, don’t run." It’s not easy being a worry-wart mom who doesn’t want to be a worry-wart. You have to bite your tongue, a lot.

We arrive at the library with all our limbs intact. With Lucy in the stroller and not walking we made good time (two year olds have their own agenda when going to the library and it usually does not include walking fast enough for older brothers). Once at the library we follow a strict protocol set up by N. First we go to the book drop where we deposit the books we had out, one at time, never two, always one. With a running commentary on each book it takes longer then average. We often end up taking the books of those who come in after us and drop theirs as well, it’s just the neighborly thing to do. L meanwhile spends the timely loudly telling everyone it is time to ‘get out. get out now’ of her stroller, and works diligently at the clasp, determined to set herself free.

Finally, all the books are deposited and off we go to the children’s room. N goes straight for the shelves pulls a book and sits at the little table to read. L goes straight for the nearest exit. Delighted to be free she looks back at me with a quick grin and runs into the other room. With quick feet and even longer arms I grab the hood of her jacket and corral her back to the children’s room. We search in vain for a "Maisy" book, alas we are out of luck. L stumbles across a pile of paper and the itty bitty library pencils, she is pacified for a few minutes. In these few minutes I scan the shelves for books to take home, while keeping the eyes at the back of my head firmly planted on the kids. Lucy makes another break for it, this time getting as far as the front doors. Luckily for me a kindly biker dude plants himself in front of the doors, she is going nowhere. She will however take the time to flash him her best, "I’m so cute and I know it" smile and say, "whaza your name." If she had done that first she probably would have gotten past him, as you could see him bedazzled by her smile and eyes, as many before have been.

Time to pry Noah away from his pile of books. Miraculously I get him to agree to just 10 books to take home. To the checkout desk, N reading all the way, like Mr. Magoo he narrowly misses obstacles in his way, never breaking his stride. He will continue in this vein the whole way home. Books checked out and off we go. With moment of potential insanity I decide to let both kids walk home. We pile books into the stroller. Whoops wait, we must stop at the outdoor water fountain for drinks. Can N reach it himself this time? No, but before Spring turns to Summer I bet he will (how did that happen?)

The journey home begins in earnest now. I’m just hungry (having left half my breakfast on the counter to referee an train dispute, and never returned) and hope that my offer of PB&J and chocolate milk (okay it’s a bribe) is enough to motive the kids to move quickly. No such luck. Noah wants to read and walk, L wants to push the stroller. No wait, now N wants to ride and L wants to continue to push anyway. The journey is long, while N may have given L a wild ride full of circles, weaving and bobs; L gives him a S-L-O-W leisurely ride. She can barely push him and refuses all offers of help. N, being ever so helpful says, "its okay, Mommy, I like to go slow" SIGH... the trek continues. But wait there’s an inclined wall to stop and climb, and then L decides to lie face down on the sidewalk and lick it. Or was she trying to lick up the ants... I just didn’t want to know. Finally, I promise we can stop at the church and play on the steps if only they will "hustle", "what’s hustle, Mommy?" "Move your bootie!"

We get to the church, with great glee N runs down the ramp around the front grassy area and back to the ramp again. L heads straight for the rose garden with the tiny pebble beds. Before you can say, "Holy Mary, Mother of God" the receptionist is out the door, apparently having nothing better to do but to keep an eagle eye out for trespassers in the rose bed, warning me that the children are to keep all the pebbles in the beds. In not one of my finer moments, I reply (snap?) that yes, we are aware of this as someone tells us this every time we are on the grounds. And further more in all the times we are on the grounds we have always made sure the rocks, excuse me, pebbles are cleared from the sidewalk.... I turn to walk away, wondering for the umpteenth time why a church cares more about the rose garden then the enjoyment of watching two children playing in the sunshine?

One more block and we’ll be home. L continues to push N, this time letting me ‘steer, but not push’. Cross the last street, I can see the house, no wait L has to stop and try and climb the tree and N has decided now is the time to walk quickly. Quickly down the sidewalk to chase a squirrel and ask it some question (I never got close enough to hear the conversation..drat!) Who to chase first?!? N is lured in by the earlier promise of PB& J L must be physically carried into the house, singing all the way, "jingle bells, jingle way hey!"

All this took only 90 minutes... there is still an afternoon of naps, crafts and dinner (where L will eat the veggies and not the meat and N the opposite). Yippee!

you can fly

"Sometimes, just sometimes, when no one is looking you fly" N said to me with all sincerity, and yet with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. Did I dispute this statement, nope... I just couldn't bring myself to say it wasn't true.

In a world where children seem to grow up faster then ever before, I like the fact that my kids believe in Santa Claus, think their toys enjoy listening to bedtime stories as much as they do, want to play games that require their imagination as much as watch tv, and yes think I can fly.

Bunk beds and a ghost named Tiki

We got bunk beds this weekend and the kids have adjusted very well. L, as I predicted, has mastered the ladder to the top bunk and would spend all day climbing up and down if we would only let her. She doesn’t want to sleep up top, mind you, she just wants to climb up and down. I thought perhaps there would need to be a period of adjustment, L would stay in the crib for a few more days and N would slowly warm up to the top bunk. Nope, everyone moved in one day one and except for one evening where I found L blanket and all curled up on the floor next to her crib, it’s been smooth sailing. It probably helps that there’s the cute contraption that my sister, the crafty-wonder-mom (I say that with great love and admiration, I wish I could do what she can do. Hell, I wish I wanted to do what she can do ...lol) made for her boys when they had the crib. It makes the beds feel like a little house. N loves sleeping on the "roof" and says, ‘L can sleep in my house’. Notice it’s HIS house and not her bed. Ownership is a big deal these days.

L mastered opening doors with doorknobs this week. So now, in addition to being able to climb in and out of bed at will, she can leave the bedroom and wander pretty much anywhere she wants in the house now. So far she's wandered into our room to climb into bed with us.(Yes, Supernanny we encourage her to go back to her own bed) I will, however, not be surprised to hear her in the kitchen looking for a 'nack' or attempting to put a movie into the vcr one night. She is very independent this girl, and I see a long future of tongue biting in my future.

N has a new friend named"Tiki" (inspired by the "Tiki, Tiki, Tiki Room" song on our Classic Disney Songs cd, I am sure) Tiki is a ghost who is very nice and just hangs out in the house. He was living in the hall closet at first, but decided that he liked sleeping on the top bunk with N better. He also really likes to hear, "Francis the Talking Alligator" stories (rule 472:if you make up a stories to tell your kid, you'd better remember them, because they will). N tells me that sometimes Tiki gets up at night and wanders the house, but mostly he just sleeps alot. We don't know what Tiki looks like, but I can tell you he is small enough to sit in N's hand when being introduced to people.

That's it from the peanut farm. We'll have reports on the progress in the veggie garden soon.

guest posting - Noah

Hello all:

What a busy year it's been since I turned three. Now I am four and life is good. I can use the potty and do so with glee. "I have to go pee!", is what I yell (every time!) before dashing off to the bathroom. What's really fun is that Lucy wants to do everything I do, so she often tags along after me and goes potty, too. I think Mommy and Daddy are very excited about this. At first I didn't like the company in the bathroom, but then Daddy told me that it was because Lucy loves me so much and wants to do all the big things that I do. That makes me proud, so now I encourage her to go potty too.

I still love dinosaurs and all things wheels. I like to pretend I am a train and chug around the house. I have a vivid imagination. I am always pretending to be a dinosaur or a jungle cat. Today I am a praying mantis. I got a new puppet theater for my birthday and am spending lots of time with my finger puppets (lucy loves them too!) I love to play with my train set and read all my books.

I really want a puppy, but Mommy says we don't have room for one. I really wanted 101 dalmatians, but, was willing to settle for just one. Mommy says there still isn't room. Maybe when we get a house with a fenced yard. I don't think Mommy really wants a puppy, but I know Daddy and I do.

When I grow up I don't want to be a fire fighter, a policeman or an astronaut, I would like to be a parent. When Daddy asked me why I said, 'Because then I get to take care of of little boys" Mommy thought that was awesome.

I had fun birthday party with my family with lots of presents and a lighting McQueen cake. The party was on Sunday, even though my b-day was Monday. When I woke up Monday I thought I would get to have another cake, since it was my real birthday. I also thought I was five..,. but Mommy explained that one day was a celebration and one day was the remembering day.

I will never forget my 4th birthday, for lots of reasons. But the big reason is that Mommy and I were playing beach volleyball in the house with a balloon and I tripped and fell and cut my forehead open on the edge of my new truck. I bled a lot. (Mommy says to tell you she remained very calm) I went to the hospital and they glued my cut shut! I was very brave and because it was my birthday they gave me a toy chameleon. I also read a book to the Dr, he was very impressed. What a day.

Mommy says I should also tell you I love being a big brother.... whatever....

Love, Noah