Haircuts for school

First day of school!

Fall walk at the Sculpture Gardens

Apple orchard and hay ride

Smiles all around

Radio

The kids usually listen to a story on tape when they go to sleep, but lately Silvi has been crawling out of bed to switch over to the radio. I also found her watching a tutorial on YouTube yesterday, learning about how cookies work to track web pages.

I think I'll teach her how to balance our checkbook next. She couldn't do much worse than I do.

Separation anxiety

Ian is usually sucking on his bottle when I leave for work in the mornings, oblivious to anything that is going on more than a few inches from his mouth. But Silvi has been breaking down as I try to walk out the door.

We've "solved" this by letting her call me as I drive away and I tell her where I am. "I'm at the stop light, passing the hardware store, by the lake..." It's so utterly heartbreaking to see her tear-streaked face as I pull out of the driveway.

Sure hope this phase doesn't last as long as it takes Congress to agree on something.

Community

Annie works at an Episcopal church once a week as well as sings in the choir. She's developed quite a few good relationships through this and it's wonderful how Ian is so accepted in this small community.

The choir director especially gives him a lot of love and Ian is a favorite in Child Care. We are so incredibly fortunate to have this for both he and Silvi, and plan to hold onto it for as long as we can.

Sometimes, she wins. Sometimes.

Some nights, those nights when Silvi is more Wicked Witch of the West than Snow White, she wins. She gets to sleep with us. With me, that is. Annie sleeps on the futon because even though we have a king-size bed, Silvi is a snuggler.

Last night there was a wide open space where Annie usually sleeps and one contented little girl snuggled up to her restless daddy.

Wiped

Annie makes it look so easy. The taking care of two kids thing. She's at a meeting right now and I'm in charge of lunch and naps. And getting them out the door later.

I'm wiped. I could shoot for a 10-hour day and not be this tired.

A cup of cold water

About once a week, Silvi throws a colossal fit when she goes to bed. Christian Bale's little meltdown pales in comparison.

We let her scream it out for a good 10-15 minutes, then I go in and nonchalantly offer her a drink of cold water or milk, wipe the sweat from her forehead and quietly tell her that's enough.

Works wonders.

Phone calls

The favorite phone calls that I get - almost on a daily basis - are from Silvi. Her small voice. Her big, "Hi! Do you know who this is!?"

Apparently she was having a bad day today because I could barely understand her through all the sobs and tears.

Still the best call I got all day.

Sesame Street Live

We took the kids to see Sesame Street Live last week. They absolutely loved - the first ten minutes of it. We made it to the intermission then it was time for something new, like playing on the escalators. Next time I say we save the thirty bucks and head to the mall, where the escalators are free and a hot dog won't set me back a week's paycheck.

Do I sound like a grumpy dad or what?!

Mom's reading glasses

Hospital - Day 5

Ian has moved out of intensive care up to the sixth floor of Children's Hospital, which, I take it, is a good thing to have happen. He's still on fifty percent oxygen, but the doctor did say something to the effect of him coming home in the next few days.

Silvi is sleeping next to me as I type, lulled to sleep by her 538th viewing of Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. Tim Burton, you are one twisted individual, but you make my daughter laugh. "I know you are, but what am I."

Me Hulk, you run

Silvi has started making Ian cry. She thinks its funny to watch his bottom lip drop lower and lower until it gives way to a full-blown frown. Her smile disappears quickly, however, when her chilled daddy undergoes a dramatic metamorphosis from mild-mannered Bruce Banner into the raging Hulk.

You think you've dealt with all your childhood anger issues until you watch your daughter push your son into the side of a chair for the fun of it. It's then that you realize that deep down, the anger lurks, waiting, hiding.

Since the law frowns on covering toddlers with Velcro and sticking them to the wall until they outgrow such behavior, guess it's time to give the old therapist another call. Or up those antidepressants.

"You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

Touch the sky

Sunset

Puppy dog eyes

Yesterday's post read sadder than I intended it to. And I know sad.

We live on the garden level and lately Silvi has been rushing to the window to watch me leave for work. She climbs up onto the arm of the couch and presses her nose against the glass, flashing her big puppy dog eyes, often with tears streaming from them. I try to make her laugh by doing something silly, but usually the last thing I see as I drive away is her sad face and her delicate little hand raised, trying to keep me home for just a moment longer.

That, my online friends, is sad. Helluva way to start each day.

Later...