It’s just a little bead

I called my mom, asking her how I would remove a bead out of an ear.  “Do you want me to come over and take a look?”  Yes, yes, I would.  She confirmed what I feared.  It was best to go to the ER.  Crap.  Crap.

A call to their father: “Sean put a bead in his ear.  I need to take him to the ER.  My mom is here.  Can you come over and watch the boys?”  “Ok.  I’ll let her know you’ll be here in twenty.”  “Yeah, I know.  This sucks.  Talk to you later.”

A text to a friend: “My boys decided they needed to push my buttons to make sure I didn’t miss them too much.  Then Sean told me he put a ball in his ear when the sun was shining.  Guess where I’m going.”

I stuffed all the Star Wars book in a bag.  I tossed in some Star Wars figures.  I grabbed Sean’s blankie. My mom helped Sean into his jacket.  I threw mine on, and we ran out of the house.  At least I was fully prepared for the very long wait ahead of us.

When we arrived, I turned around to tell Sean.  To find him completely asleep.  No problem.  I picked him up.  I grabbed the bag and my purse and marched into the ER.  To march back to the kiddie waiting room.  Yea.

We waited for three and half hours. We were in triage once, and Sean slept through it. He was dead asleep in my arms.  I was not prepared for that.  I would have lost my grip on sanity in small doses from boredom and watching tween Disney programs, (Who are those writers?  Better yet, who hires them?  Because I can write better stuff half asleep.  Pay me.) if I didn’t have some one to text back and forth to.  I also had “Pocket Frogs” as well.  But it was the texting because honestly how long can you be entertained by bouncing frogs from one lily pad to another?

Finally we were called to the back.  Sean woke up.  The nurse looked in his ear.  “Let me think and come back and let you know what I come up with me.”

I felt so reassured.

The first technique she tried to pull it out with some sort of plastic hook.

Fail.

The second technique a doctor recommended some other nurses suck it out with a vacuum.  One nurse with the hose.  The other nurse and I held Sean.

Fail.

Those nurses suggested a third technique.  The paper clip technique.  Three nurses and I held down Sean as he thrashed as they tried to pop out the bead with a paper clip.  He screamed out “Mommy!  Help me!!!”  My heart broke.  I held on.  Praying.

Fail.

They gave me a reference for an ENT, and I held Sean tight, blinking back tears.

Oh, and did I mention after a four-hour ordeal, I still was leaving tomor- I mean, I was leaving that day.

I stayed up way too late trying to get things done.

***

Friday morning, I was a tornado.  It’s sick how well I do under pressure.  Sick.  I got boys up and ready.  I allowed Sean to sleep in, but when he woke, he insisted on going to school because it was crazy sock day.  I got things done.  I called the ENT before we left for school and left a message.

I explained things to Sean’s teacher.  Dropped off Evan.  Dropped off food from Evan’s fundraiser.  Started getting the support network online.  Called the ENT again.  Left a message again.  Tried to straighten up the house.  About to jump in the show- Phone call.  Sean’s teacher wanted to know if I could pick up Sean because they were worried he would do something to lodge the bead in further on their watch.  Run to get Sean.  Jump in the shower.  Hear the phone ring.  Jump out of the shower.  The ENT.

I explained the situation.

The scheduler: Will Monday afternoon work for you, ma’am?

…

Me: No.  Did you miss what I said?  My son has a bead in his ear.  The ER couldn’t remove it last night.  If for some chance, it moves and starts to hurt him, they can’t get it out.  So Monday will not work for us.  I understand if you can’t help us, but if you can’t then give me the number of someone who can.

The scheduler: I can try to fit him in at 3:30 but there will be a wait.  I don’t know how long.

Me: We’ll be there.

I organized my mom to watch Aidan and Evan while their father took Sean to the doctor.

I was told I could postpone my flight or my trip.  Wally told me to get on the damn plane.

I had to trust.  It’ll be fine.  He is their father.  He can do this.  I had to trust.  I had to trust.

***

“We’re at the doctor’s”

“How’s the wait?”

“Um, we’re actually waiting in the room.”

“How’s Sean?”

“Fine.  Oh, there’s the doctor.  Got to go.”

“Ok.  Good luck.  Tell Sean I love him and to be brave!”

Breathe.  Breathe.  Breathe.  Trust.  Trust.  Trust.  Everything will be fine.

The Imperial March

“Well?!”

“The doctor couldn’t even get near the ear.  Sean freaked.  They’re going to have to put him under.  I’ve talked to the woman who is setting this all up.  It may be Monday or Tuesday.”

Tuesday.  Tuesday.  Tuesday.

“Ok. How’s Sean doing?”

“Hold on.  Here.”

“Hi, Mama!”

“Hi, Baby!  How are you?”

*enter five-minute monologue about Sith Lords and Jedis and toys and Mario with a toddler accent*

“Daddy says I’ve got to go.  I love you, Mama.  Bye-bye.”

“I love you too, Seanny.  Be good.  I’ll talk to you later.”

Please let it be Tuesday.

A ball?

I was leaving the next day.  I was running lists through my mind.  What needs to be done tonight and how long it would take.  What did I need to still pack.  What should I let my mom know.  What should I let their father know.  What needed to be done the next morning.  I was pacing to actually go to bed at a resonable time.  As I helped Sean off with his shirt, my mind drifted to tomorrow evening, and I smiled and-

Sean: I put a ball in my ear.

What?

Me: What?

Sean: I put a ball in my ear today.

Me: What?!  I mean.  What?!  Why?  How?  When?  Really?  Let me see.  Which ear?

He turned his right ear to me.  I peered in.  Something reflected light back.  Was that the “ball?”  Or was that the back of the ear, shiny with ear wax?  The kid does produce a lot of ear wax.  I couldn’t be sure.

Evan: Let me see!

Me: I’m going to get a flashlight.  Evan.  Sean.  Finish getting ready for bed.

I ran down the stairs.  This is not good.  I leave tomorrow for four days.  This is not good.  I grabbed the flash light, running back up the stairs. Evan stopped me at the door to their room with his hands on his hips, feet spread.  He put one hand to to halt me and then replaced it on his hip.

Evan: No problem, Mommy.  I’ve checked the ear.  And there is nothing in there.

Um, thanks.

Me: Thank you, Evan.  Let me take a second look.  Just to see.

I sat on Sean’s bed.  I took his hand and pulled him into position, his right side towards me.  My knees were on either side, ready to clamp down in case he ran.  I clicked on the heavy flashlight.  Where was the small one?  I moved the light to shine in his ear.  I looked in.

Crap.

Reflecting back the light was a pearl bead.

Crap.

I leave tomorrow.

It’s bed time.

And there is a bead in my son’s ear.

When things are perfect

We sat on the bed, playing “Pocket Frogs.”  I knew the moment I found the game, it would hook her.  As we separately bounced frogs on our phones, nibbling on plain sugar cookies (“You know what would go great with these.  Frosting.”  “You can always lick it and stick some of the colored sugar on it. Oh wait, there’s not enough.”  I stuck my tongue out at her.), life felt perfect.  Like all those hours of thumbing through cook books, looking for new delicious recipes to try.  Like all those hours of collages, watching movies, listening to music.  Like all those hours of playing “Mario Go-Kart” or “Lego Star Wars.”

Wally: (Not looking up from her phone) It was really cute to watch you today.  Talking.  And you.  You were like what I remember you from college.  Confident, glowing, laughing, with that mischievous smile and laugh.  This is good for you.  You deserve this.

Funny that I can tell which pronouns are plural and which aren’t.  That I can follow her pronouns to the names, to the undercurrents of what hadn’t been said, what had already been said.

Me: (a smile I hadn’t been able to remove since an hour after I landed on Friday)  It’s been a perfect weekend.  Amazing.  Thanks for being so accommodating.

Wally: (Snorts.) Like I wouldn’t understand.  I’m glad it worked out.  Though My Sister is dying for details.

Me: Speaking of details.  What did you say to The Violinist?

Wally: (looking at me with a smile) You should call her.  I gave her a few details.  I told her this was a good thing.

Me: I will.  I’m glad I got to see her.

Then I remembered something from earlier that day.  I started giggling.

Wally: What?

Me: I pulled a prank.  And he didn’t even notice.

The rest of my words were swallowed by giggles.  She waited until I calmed down so I would explain.  Then I went into some silly monologue that as my best friend she had to endure.  Not that I think she minded, we had already discussed her opinion and thoughts at length.

It was a perfect weekend.

Christmas ornaments for kids, preschoolers, and toddlers to make

Christmas is coming.  The goose is getting fat.  I love prepping for Christmas.  Evan and I are brain storming for this year’s ornaments and crafts.  I’m not sure what to do for the families.  Here are some ornaments we made last year.  We had a blast making them.  Depending on the age and the ability of the child will depend on how much work you do.

Mini Christmas Trees

(I remember doing something similar when I was a Brownie in Girl Scouts. It’s an easy, fun, and messy project.  Evan (5) and Sean (3) really enjoyed making them.)

What you need:

Pine cones

Green spray paint

Glue

Glitter

Paper plates

Ribbon

Spray paint pine cones green.  Once the pine cones are dry, pour glue in one paper plate and glitter in another.  Have the child roll the pine cone in the glue and then in the glitter.  Let the pine cone dry.  Glue ribbon to the pine cone to make a loop.  Allow to dry.

Glitter Shells

(I saw this in a Martha Stewart magazine.  The hard part is putting a whole in the shell; you’ll need a drill, preferably a dremel drill.  It was easy to adopt for children.  I’m thinking I want to try other shells this year.  The boys loved making these.  I loved playing with my dad’s dremel drill.  If only I had a real reason to get one.)

Things you need:

Shells (We used clam shells)

Dremel Drill

Glue

Glitter

Paper plates

Tooth pick

Ribbon or string

Drill a hole in the top of the shell.  Have the child dip the shell into the glue.  Have the child cover the shell in glitter.  (We did most shells in one color as well as mixing two colors together to get a neat effect.)  Clear the hole of glue and glitter.  Allow to dry.  Thread the whole with ribbon or string.  Tie the ribbon to make a loop.

Clay Ornaments

(These are so easy, simple, and fun.  Toddlers can even do it.  Now that I think about it, I might have the boys make more this year and work on decorating them in different ways.  The boys had lots of fun.  Keep on eye on these.  They can burn quickly.  Evan prefered the burnt ones.  I was less than thrilled.)

What you need:

Polymer Clay

Something to cut clay in a circle (I used a plastic Easter egg.)

Rubber stamps

Straw

Cookie sheet

Tooth pick

Foil

Ribbon

Have the child knead the clay for at least two minutes.  (For younger children, you may have to work with it too.)  Roll the clay flat to about 1/4″ to 1/2″ thick.  Cut out circles.  Use the straw to cut out a hole in the top.  Have the child press a rubber stamp in to the clay.  On the back of the clay, write the child’s name or initials with the year.  Cover a cookie sheet with foil, and place the ornaments on it.  Bake in an oven or toaster oven as it says on the directions. (275°F for 15 mins.  I think mine baked in 10 mins.)  Let the ornaments cool.  String ornaments with ribbon.

More craft and ornament ideas

Christmas crafts for kids, preschoolers and toddlers part 2

Winter and Christmas Crafts for Toddlers and Children

More Christmas Crafts for Children, Toddlers, and Babies

Christmas Crafts for Kids, Toddlers, and Babies

Thanks

So I meant to keep this list down, but I had a lot of fun, and before you know it, I had a lot.  I actually cut out people, so I might have to do this again.  Soon.  First off, thanks for reading.  I haven’t been the best blogger lately, but I’ll figure out how to change that soon.

To my first oh-my-god-he’s-so-cute-and-sweet actual crush, thanks for making sure I will always have a thing for guys with light colored eyes.  Thanks for being my friend, and I think I would die if you ever learned I had a crush on you.

To the she-devils I grew up with, thanks for teaching me never to fear evil, to smell out your kind, to not care what anyone thinks, and to say “Bite me.”

To my high school best friend, thanks for being cool, fun, and weird.  Thanks for being my sidekick.  Thanks for sticking with me through four years of long distance relationship.  Sorry we couldn’t last through marriages.  You’re welcome for the bottles of blue nail polish, the Luke Skywalker toys, and all the sex tips.

To my soul sister, you were my first picked out sister.  Thanks for being that.  And for all those hours studying the dark arts with me.  For agreeing to be my star actress.  For letting me dance in and out of your life.  We should drag our troops with us and get together.  Sorry for the headlocks.  But honestly, you should never pick a fight with someone who knows to fight.

To my soul sister’s husband, thanks for being a cool guy in high school.  Thanks for still doing the voice of the worm from Labyrinth even all these years later.  Thanks for chewing out your wife for not inviting me over for bar-b-ques all summer.

To my quietest friend, thanks for being so cool.  I want to believe.

To the drama boys, thanks for insuring that I have a thing for wickedly smart, wickedly funny, wickedly confident guys.  At times that has worked well.

To my Favorite Freshman, thanks for considering me your big sis and all the letters written from army bases and the awesome baby clothes.

To my first love, thanks for teaching me to swing dance and skank and to risk.  I blew that one.

To my Spanish teacher, thanks for always telling me I’m bright and creative.  You were the first teacher to do so.

To my swim couch/ chem teacher, thanks for letting me ask you the most random science questions, for listening while I debated about dropping swim team, for my recommendation letter.  Though making me read it in front of you to see me blush, not cool.

To my mentor, thanks for seeing something in a girl who sat on top of her desk in the back of the room.  Thanks for letting me talk your ear off, and thanks for making me your TA.  Thanks for teaching really cool classes.

To the boy with bellbottoms, thanks for deepening my appreciation for The Beatles, for teaching me to free-style dance, for late night conversations about, among other things, God, religion, politics, the end of the world, and, of course, the nudist debate.  I still stand that it would be boring.  You’re welcome for introducing you to The Simpsons.

To my first college roommate, see I wasn’t so bad.  Thanks for allowing me to put of glow-in-the-dark stars, meal tickets, Christmas lights, and the kiddie pool in our dorm room as decoration.  Thanks for giving us a second chance.  I forgive you for giving me mono.

To my sweet suite mate, thanks for letting me hang out in your room.  It was a sanctuary.

To my sleepy suite mate, thanks for being my tea cup buddy.  We could get that thing to spin.

To my first official boyfriend.  You are a psycho.  Thanks for teaching me to trust my instincts.  You’re welcome for not letting anyone break your legs in the beginning.  Though, come to think of it, it would have saved us time, pain, and legal fees, if I had.  Sorry about that.

To my college best friend, thanks for being my friend.  Thanks for making me laugh when I wanted to cry, scream, or do nothing.  Thanks for discussing science, religion, politics as well as quote hours of The Simpsons’ lines with me.  Thanks for the fashion advice and being my Disneyland partner and my partner in crime.  I wish we were still friends like that.

To my Beloved, I fell in love with you the first time we met, forgave you for stealing my job, and knew I had to be friends with you forever as we kept saying something and repeating “ME TOO!”  Thanks for being the my counterpart.  You’re right.  If I swung the other way, we might be soul mates but we need each other too much behind us to square off as partners do.

To my second roommate, thanks for being a cool roommate and not running off like I wanted to you to.  Thanks for understanding my life gets busy and making time for me when I take a breath.  I still have the picture of us that has our secrets in plain view.  Now get pregnant already because I’m tired of making you look good in pictures.

To my guy expert, thanks for being the coolest guy ever.  I want my boys to be like you.  Sorry you got run off.  Jealousy sucks.

To the lesbian, thanks for being a cool friend for a while.  I wish alcohol I hadn’t taken you away.

To my first boss, thanks for being weird.

To my boss at GS, thanks for being Stanford to my Carrie.  Thanks for coming to my bachelorette party, you as well as My Beloved made it one of the best nights of my life.

To our handy man, thanks for teaching me the true meaning of WWJD.  I still use it.

To the Canadian girl, thanks for being there when I needed you.  You were an awesome friend.  You know you were the first person to see Sean.  Thanks for being a good sport with my dad.  Sorry about the idiot who broke us up.

To the bloggers I heart, thanks for sharing your lives.  For the ones who stopped, I miss you and wonder about you and your lives.  For those I still read, you are amazing women and I wish I read more.  Hell, I wish I could be like you all.

To my pen pal, thanks for the emails, the letters, the gifts.  Thanks for being my friend and writing a friendship that one day needs to be told.

To the mom of the twins, thanks for forcing wisdom at me.  You’re welcome for teaching you the “proper” way to yell at your kids.

To the mom of one of my favorite girls, thank you for being so terribly cool and inviting me to parties.

To the mom of the sweet girl, thanks for humoring me.  You can admit that I amuse you.

To the mom of the other of my favorite girls and Sean’s best friend, thanks for house hunting for me and insisting on making your house my home away from home.  Seriously we need to hang out more.

Thanks to the unicorn for the laughs, the emails, and the stickers.

To Wally’s little sis, thanks for being my confidant, even though you became it through default.  I’m super glad your sis tells you everything and that coolness runs in your family.

To the boy I keep up way too late, thanks for being who you are.  You’re pretty awesome.  Thanks for the conversations, the jokes, sticking with me, and going along with me on crazy schemes.  You changed my life.

To my boys, thanks for teaching me to enjoy the mornings.  Thanks for pushing me to be more patient and energetic.  Thanks for pushing me to be better than I am because I am your role model.

 

Finding some time

I arrived home late last night.  I’m doing laundry at the parents’.  Again.  Sean finally gave up the computer.  Then Aidan tossed his juice glass into my lap.  Now that he is full of juice, he would like to try at writing.

jklhghjjysds

Yeah, I think this is long as I can write.

On the radio

We were driving home, and Red Hot Chili Peppers’ song “Monarchy of Roses” came on the radio.

Sean: Mommy, do you like this song?

Me: Yes.

Sean: Well, then turn it up!

***

One Republic’s “Good Life” came on.

It sounds like they are singing “It’s gonna be a good life.”  (The actual lyric is “this has gotta be the good life.”)

Evan: Mommy!  I like this song!  I’m going to sing it when I grow up!  Because when you grow up, Mommy, it’s a good life! When I’m grown up, I’m going to have  good life!

I hope so, little dude.

Recap 11/18

1. I had totally forgot how much I love to have people over.

2. I also love a full house of loud, active kids.

3. Aidan has learned to move the chairs around to climb on them to get whatever he wants.

4. Sean sleeps like the dead.

5. My mailbox key is having issues.  Like I needed help avoiding getting the mail.

6. Evan has been asking for the last two weeks if we can roll down the windows and sing “Jingle Bells” as we drive.  No. Even if it was Christmas season, it would still be a no.

7. My washing machine was pronounced DOA.  My father blames the person for selling us a crappy used one. No, Dad; you gave us your old one to replace our crappy, used DOA washer.

8. Stupid keyboard can bite me.

9. I should get my tattoo soon.

10. I’m visiting friends this weekend.  I will miss a birthday party for one of Evan’s friends and a chance to meet other moms, Cub Scout fishing, a star-gazing party at my church, a perfect opportunity to clean out the garage because trash is picking up big items next week, and the regular fun stuff.  But I’m still leaving.

A Request From Sean

10:34

November 17, 2011

Sean asked for his own computer.

Out of the blue.  At a friend’s house.  With no computers in sight or used during the playdate.

Dang.

 

Sort of like his brother asking for

A cell phone

A gun

A late apology

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom.  I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Remember the time I was about two, and I walked away from you and Dad when we were at the state fair, and you had to split up to find me, and a ten-year old girl found me and sat down with me to wait for you guys to find me, and Dad found me first, and you came with two huge, young security guards.  I’m sorry for that.

“I’m sorry for the time that I walked away from you at the county fair at two and half.”

“You walked away from us the next year after that.”

“Huh.  I don’t remember that.  I do remember walking away from you in Vegas at Circus Circus.  I’m sorry about that.”

“You were three.  We turned around, and you were gone.”

“You lost your contact.  I knew it was going to take a while, so I decided to go back and look at the doll I wanted.  But I’m sorry any ways.  I’m also sorry for all those times I walked away in stores.”

“The worse part is you never looked lost, so no one knew.  It was always hard to find you.  That’s why we trained you guys to come to the whistle.  If they had leashes, back then-”

“Harnesses, Mom.  Not leashes.  But I’m sorry.”

“So which kid did you lose?”

“Sean.”