Where Is That Snail When We Need Him?

We are in dire need of Rob's nemesis, The Snail!

As he read a bedtime story to Jay, Rob noticed him rubbing his fingers together, molding a big booger. When Rob wiped it away, Jay threw a major tantrum . Then, suddenly, he stopped screaming and calmly told Rob, "That's ok. I get another one." And he proceeded to do just that.

Taking a Bite out of the Big Apple

Because Cole loves buildings and Jay is always up for an adventure, we ventured into NYC during our Thanksgiving visit to Rob's hometown. The boys were ecstatic that the day began with their first real train ride, complete with tickets and a conductor. As we passed the 5- or 6-story buildings in the suburbs, Cole kept asking, "Is that a skyscraper? What about that one? Is that one?" His excitment was contagious. I couldn't wait to see his expression when he gazed at a true skyscraper. After arriving at Grand Central Station, we headed down 5th Avenue. (No, Cole, they didn't name the station after Geotrax.) Our first stop was the public library for a picture with the famed lions. We went inside to admire the beautiful building and to use the nicest public restrooms I knew about in the area.
Next stop was one of the ubiquitous street vendors for hotdogs and pretzels. No visit to New York would be complete without a tasty vendor treat!
And, finally, the pièce de résistance : The top of the Empire State Building! Jay seemed more interested in the pigeons, but Cole was excited to see some of the famous buildings shown in a skyscraper book we have. (I'm not sure why Jay decided to play dead for the photo.)

As we walked back up 5th Ave at dusk, I thought about visiting Rockefeller Center to see the Christmas tree and ice skaters, then I decided it was already a full day for the boys' first trip to the Big Apple. (A wise decision, I just learned, because the tree wasn't lit until a couple days ago.) Instead, the boys got to experience rush hour at Grand Central Station from stroller height.

Yes, I caved.

Cole and Jay are now the proud and delighted owners of Geotrax Grand Central Station, otherwise known as preschool crack. The next day Cole declared, with a crazed look in his eyes, "I NEED MORE!"

The Quest for GeoTrax

Cole has discovered his Holy Grail of toys, his Red Ryder Model Air Rifle. It is called Geotrax, and he can no longer live without it. I swear, he has thought about that remote control train system every moment since he first laid eyes on it.

His relentless campaign begins each morning as soon as we wake ("Mommy, can we go to the store today and buy Geotrax?"); and continues far after his bedtime ("Mommy said that maybe I'll get Geotrax for Christmas and I can't sleep!") At first, his earnestness was enduring. He has never wanted anything this badly before. But now, it is wearing on me.

The reasons he dreams up to go shopping are far too clever for a four-year old:

• "We should go to Target to get Jay new shoes and, while we're there, we could check if they have Geotrax."
• "I want to use all the pennies in my piggy bank for something new."
• "We don't have to wait for Christmas. We could get them now."
• "Jay wants them too. We should get them for him."

I have to admire his tenacity. He reminds me of the pigeon in Mo Willems books, especially The Pigeon Wants a Puppy: "I WANT A PUPPY! RIGHT HERE! RIGHT NOW!"

One benefit of this obseesion is that the boys are playing with our Thomas trains everyday (poor Thomas was getting quite dusty and lonely). The tracks are spread across our family room rug, and each new layout is bigger and more complicated than the last. I love the Thomas toys and their old-fashioned looks and ageless sensibilities. I'm not sure I want to replace them with a Fisher-Price, plastic, noisy, battery-eating train set.

After some reseach, however, I have to admit that there are advantages to Geotrax. For one thing, the Thomas tracks link together only one way, which inevitably leads to two open ends facing each other (my best solution so far has been to tape the pieces together--utterly unacceptable to a purist like Cole). Geotrax tracks, on the other hand, join together on either side, so no need for tape. They also seems to lock together tighter. The Thomas tracks break apart quite easily, which can be quite frustrating with a little brother who likes to sit on the tracks.

I even see advantages to the remote controls. Now that the layouts are becoming more elaborate, it's harder for Cole to reach the far tracks. We bought a train table last year for that reason, but he hardly uses it. Despite how much room the table takes up, it isn't big enough for the layouts he wants to create. With the remote control, he wouldn't knock over bridges or break the tracks trying to reach the other side.

***Update to the first draft (because he can't read yet)***

I convinced myself with the previous paragraphs and bought Geotrax Grand Central Station. Now that I have it in my possession, it's burning the proverbial hole in my closet. Can I hold out until Christmas? Waiting will be hard, especially since I know it would occupy him for hours and that means FREE TIME for me. However, I hear Super Nanny's voice in my head saying it would be a good lesson in patience and the futility of expecting instant gratification.

Perhaps we'll give it to him in New York so he can play with it the week we're there for Thanksgiving. Besides, I suspect Pop Pop will want to play with it too.

Why I Love Living in the South

It's mid-November. After four years living here, I still marvel at the weather. I specifically picked plants with fall/winter blooms to fully appreciate the climate. These plants are in the bed along the foundation in the front yard.

My favorite southern plant, the camellia (I also have other types of camellias that haven't bloomed yet):

When I was browsing at the nursery, these Leopard Plants caught my eye (I have two). I didn't expect them to bloom until next year, so this was a nice surprise (aren't they funny bloomers ?).
The impatiens are still in bloom!
And last but not least, our azaleas.

Happy Halloween

Halloween is one of the boys' favorite holidays. This year it was even more special with a visit from Grandma Carlene, aka Yingy (no, I don't have any idea how Jay came up with that moniker).

The festivities started with my friend Holly's costume party the week before Halloween (for the kids, not the grown-ups). She set up her sons' Geotrax trains in her living room, and Cole spent the entire time there. He skipped playing outside with the other boys, watching a Mickey Mouse video, and dinner. The only time he left his station was when the cake was served. I'm afraid he is going to ask for a set of Geotrax. It's a great system, but I don't want to get into it since we have baskets of Thomas tracks and trains that rarely get used.

On Halloween the kids weren't allowed to wear their costumes to preschool; instead they were asked to dress as their favorite character in a book (who does the administration think they are fooling?). Cole was an astronaut again this year (click here to see last year's pictures) and brought the book Quasers, Pulsars, and Black Holes from the Isaac Asimov Library of the Universe series (remember those, Dawn?). The book is for much older kids and I got a kick out of seeing it next to princess and Spiderman books. Jay was a fireman and wore his hat backwards all day, as he always does with hats (click here and here to see some of his other backward-hat styles).

That afternoon we went to a party at a classmate of Cole's. Apparently John informed his parents that he was having a Halloween party for all his friends. They assumed he would forget the idea, but the next day he invited all the boys in the class and talked about it nonstop. For a last-minute party hosted by a four-year-old, it was a lot of fun and thoroughly exhausted the boys. (This time Cole spent most of the time playing with motorcycles that loaded onto a truck, missing pumpkin painting, dinner, and the pinata.)

Trick or Treating went quickly this year. After five houses, they were done. I was worried about getting them to bed, but both fell asleep rather quickly as mom and I finished a bottle of wine (after that day, we needed a treat too).

How Jay Made Rob's Day

When Rob asked Jay if he would like to watch TV, Jay answered:

"Maybe Red Sox on."

The Joys of Boys at Play

A Nighttime Conversation with Jay

As I was rocking Jay to sleep, he started to rub my chest, which led to this conversation:

Jay: Why you wear dis shirt?

Me: It's the shirt I put on this morning.

Jay: Oh.

Jay: What deez bumps?

Me: Boobies. Big girls have boobies.

Jay: Oh.

Jay (continuing to feel my chest): Hey, Yous got two! Yous bumpy.

Me (trying not to laugh hysterically): Yes.

Jay: Me no bumpy.

Me: No, boys don't get boobies.

Jay: Oh.

Jay: Daddy no bumpies?

Me: Nope. No bumpies.

Jay: Oh. Mommy's bumpy.

Then he starts to sing: Bumpies, bumpies, bumpies. Bumpy bumpies. Bumpy, bumpy, bumpy.


I hope he never has this conversation with a girlfriend!

A Monumental Night

Jay is sleeping in a toddler bed tonight.

Cole read his bedtime story to me (parts of Hop on Pop), and he's wearing his undies to bed instead of a pull-up.

Wow! What a night!

"Me Big Boy!"

Jay has declared himself a big boy. Now, whenever I say he is my little guy, he corrects me with "Me big boy." He really is growing up before our eyes. I'm sure a lot of that comes from being the second child. Rob and I have less time to observe and coach his development. A few weeks ago, when he was playing quietly by himself, he suddenly counted to ten. Rob and I looked at each other in astonishment. On his own, he learned to count! How did we miss that?!

He is also potty training himself. This morning when Cole put on his Spiderman undies, Jay decided to wear his pair. Then Cole showed him his Elmo undies, so Jay put those on as well. I figured a double layer couldn't hurt. He made it all morning without an accident. We sat on the potty four times before we left the house, then I swaddled his booty in a changing pad in the car. Jay wasn't very happy about that, but when Cole said that because he'll have accidents he should use the pad, it was alright. (Thank goodness Cole is a sweet, somewhat mature four-year old, because Jay does whatever he suggests.) We used the potty one more time at school, then I left him in his teachers' care with three extra changes of clothes. I hope they get paid extra for teaching the potty-training age!

I bought the clothes in the pictures for Aunt Dawn's wedding. After the saleslady and I raved about how good Jay looked (Cole was at school), he wanted to wear the outfit for pictures the next day (even though it was over 90 degrees). When we put on the ensemble, Jay looked at himself in the mirror and declared, "Me look sharp!" Cole got hot in his sweater and took it off, so, unfortunately, his head shot looks like a school picture. Both boys were pros at the shoot and we got very few of these faces. Cole acted like he had been modelling his whole life. When we sorted through the pictures, his all looked identical.
Toward the end they both got a little silly, but they remained good sports, especially when we told them there was a Baskin Robbins next door.

Almost a Reason for Number Three

I spent a glorious five days in Los Angeles visiting my sister and brother-in-law's newborn baby girl (oh yeah, I visited them too).

Sophia was 16 days old when I arrived. There was so much I had forgotten about the tiniest of babies: the squeaks and gurgles, the unbelievably soft hair and skin, the unfocused gaze, the diapers no bigger than my palm, and the beautiful smell of new life. I wanted to drink her in.

I became quite nostalgic about the newborn stage, when time is measured, not in days or weeks, but hours. A pinprick of regret lodged in my heart (or maybe my uterus) as I realized the babies I will hold in the future will belong to someone else. I'll never again have a tiny being gaze into my eyes with the complete, unconditional, sweet love reserved only for mothers.

There are so many reasons not to have a third: the terrible 9-month morning sickness I seem prone to; the increased chance of birth defects due to my so-called advanced maternal age; the sleep deprivation and stress; the finances involved (more Rob's concern than mine, but a valid one); and the fact that the boys are getting old enough to consider trips to Disney World and other fun things that would be difficult with a baby.

My rational side knows the list of cons outnumber the pros.

But, perhaps, the beauty of another child trumps all else.

To My Aunts in LA

Dear Aunties in LA,

You should stop making fun of my favorite style--tank tops.

I can so totally pull off the look with my BIG MUSCLES!!


And check out those muscles in action. (Jay has some good muscles too.)

My Birthday Drawing

For my birthday, I asked Cole to draw a picture of us.

His explanation: We have lollipop heads and our sticks are going into the ground so we don't fall over. The dots and border are just designs, while the dots with lines going through them are fireworks. I love it!

His drawings are always very involved and have lots of designs and details. Here is a delivery truck (with packages inside, a headlight, and engine under the cab).

And here's an oldie but goodie from 2006 that I just scanned. In case it is hard to read the caption (it seems Color Wonder markers fade), it is titled "Mommy and Daddy Holding Hands."

The First Day of Preschool

What grown up boys!

Fighting over who gets to open the gate (a daily ritual)

I can't believe summer is over (even though it is still 95 degrees here). The boys started their new school schedule a couple weeks ago. Cole now goes five mornings a week, and Jay goes two.

It has been a hard adjustment for Cole. He hates to lose his free weekday mornings, and I can't blame him. I'm not sure I like him gone every morning. It makes me realize how fast he is growing up. Next year he'll be in full-day kindergarten. I don't know if my heart can take it!

He is also taking Mad Science class after school one day a week (he has decided he wants to be a scientist when he grows up because then he'll know how everything works). He was nervous about the class, but now he loves it. The kids learn a new concept each week (today was how eyes help us see) and get to keep fun toys relevant to the lessons.

Jay has had no trouble adjusting. He's been ready for a regular classroom for years! Last year, he would run into Cole's classroom, sit down at the table, and start whatever project the teachers had laid out. He gets so excited when he realizes it's his day to go. The only downside to his enthusiasm is that he never wants to leave. Quite a few times I've carried him out kicking and screaming!

His teachers have started encouraging him to use the potty. They tell me he tries several times a day by himself. He loves the little stall in the classroom and the small, kid-size potty. All the practice is actually working! Tonight he took off his diaper by himself and went. I'm so thrilled! I can't wait to be completely done with diapers. I shudder to think of the corner of the landfill we have filled with them.

The new school schedule means I have two mornings a week with no kids. Those three hours go by so fast! I plan to use them to exercise, but it's such a struggle. I really want to come home, make a nice pot of coffee, and read a magazine in peace. Hopefully I can get into a good routine.

"Mommy, Stop Taking My Picture!"

Try Not to Laugh

I gave Cole a time-out in my bedroom because I was giving Jay a bath and couldn't leave the area. When the four minutes were over, I found Cole wearing a neglige and a big goofy grin. It was so hard to keep a straight face, but the offense was serious (biting!), so I had to try to retain some composure. If only taking a picture would not have undermined the discipline!

Note to myself: Keep the time-out pillow far away from my pajama drawer!

A Week in the Life

Day One

Adventure Boy gave himself three boo-boos that will never heal because he keeps picking at them. When I get him up from his nap, his face is a bloody mess and he's chanting, "Me no pick. Me no pick. Me no pick." I know you picked, buddy. You can't fool me, yet.

I love these cute band-aids. I just didn't expect to use the entire box in one week.

Day Two

Rob was a whiz at Mock Trial and debate. He endlessly woos me with stories of his verbal prowess ((swoon)). I fully blame him for the following story.

Sunday afternoon, I wanted us all to eat in the dining room because we never eat lunch as a family. Cole wanted to eat in front of the TV. He spent a good 15 minutes outlining the reasons he should be allowed:

1. We ate with daddy yesterday.
2. I'll eat all my lunch.
3. It's my turn to decide.
4. I haven't watched a show in a really, really, really long time.
5. You know how you want time to yourself sometimes? I want time to myself too.

Rob, appreciating his effort and logic, would have caved. I held strong and only promised a show after lunch.




Day ThreeMe: They use chlorine to clean things, right?

Rob: Yeah.

Me: So, wouldn't swimming count as a bath for the boys?

Rob: I really don't think the Mother of the Year would ask that.



Day Four
Update to Chatterbox:

Jay says "la-la good-bye" for lullaby.

Cole says "Gril" for girl and "chicken" for kitchen.

Potty Talk You Don't Want to Hear

"Mommy, I had an accident!"

followed by...

"I made a pee moustache!"

[crazy laughter from the bathroom]

The Wisdom of Four Year Olds

At four years old, Cole seems wise beyond his years. He can tell you Saturn is his favorite planet, the birds flying overhead are vultures, and he wants three more crackers so he'll have five. So I'm always surprised by the little things that remind me he is only four.

Last night, for example. As we snuggled in his bed before lights out, he asked how old I was. We talked about the ages of people we know and I told him that sometimes people live to be 100 years old.

He looked at me with wide eyes and asked, "Where do they live?"

I told him that it usually depends on their health and that there are special places they can live where people take care of them.

"Can we meet someone who is 100 years old?" he asked, with true reverence in his voice.

"Sure," I replied. "We can visit a nursing home and bring some of your drawings."

"How big is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"How do they fit in the building?"

Suddenly, I realized he didn't know that people stop growing.

I imagined a group of elderly people as tall as redwoods in rocking chairs on a gigantic front porch. Instead of seeing them as society does, with the useful part of their lives over, I saw them as Cole did--strong and powerful, worthy of our awe.

Sometimes I hate introducing him to reality.

More Anatomy Lessons

Oh, the joys of young kids discovering their bodies! Our household's recent anatomy lessons continue...

This morning, Jay insisted on taking off his diaper and applying Desitin himself. (Pick your battles, right?!) As he was doing "my job," he said, very clearly, "Dis my poopie hole." Potty training is going to be interesting with this one.

And yesterday, Cole complained his tummy hurt. When I asked where it hurt, he said, "I think it is my uterus." Clearly a small detail of our previous discussion didn't quite sink in. Either that or he doesn't believe that boys can't have babies. My dear Cole, as sick as I was carrying you, I really wish boys had uteruses and daddy could have done the job.

My Two 35-Pound Writer’s Blocks

The babysitter took the kids out for the morning, so I decided to resurrect an article that a magazine editor was interested in before Jay was born. I reread my query letter and our e-mail exchange, and took a stab at the first few paragraphs. Then these thoughts started banging around my head:

Maybe I should go to the library to do some research…The boys’ books are overdue anyway…Where is the one about a fire truck? I don’t remember seeing it lately...I need to remember that I volunteered to walk with Cole’s class to the fire station on Friday…I also need to bring the checkbook to pay for next month’s tuition…If the babysitter can’t come on Friday, I’ll have to take Jay along…Should I bring the stroller?...Cole will probably end up riding in it while Jay runs around with everyone…

It’s getting close to lunchtime…When are they going to get home?…What do we have besides hot dogs for lunch?…I should tell the babysitter to cut up some fruit. They haven’t had any fruit for a couple of days… Except apple juice… Does that count?... I think we are out of juice…I’ll have to go to the grocery store after the library…And what about dinner?...

As long as I am out I should look for those sun visors that go on the car’s windshield…Is there something to go on carseats so the buckles don’t get so hot?...Maybe Target has them…Or Wal-Mart…Wal-Mart is closer to the library and grocery store…And K-Mart is close by if Wal-Mart doesn’t have them…I can’t believe I looked in three stores that didn’t carry them yesterday… Where do people get them? I see them all the time...Maybe I should drive out to the new Super Wal-Mart…It’s farther away, but then I could get the sunshade and groceries at the same place…Kohl’s opened there too…Cole needs new shirts…He’s growing so fast…I need to sort through their clothes…and toys…

So, my attempt at some professional writing ended up as three errands, two chores, and a couple reminders.

The Facts of Life

Cole: Mommy, why do boys have penises and girls don't?

Me: Because girls' bodies have different parts so they can have babies when they are grown up.

Cole: Boys can't have babies?

Me: No, but they can be daddies. Would you like to be a daddy?

Cole: No.

Me: Not even when you are grown up?

Cole: No. I just like being me. I love me!

I love you too, little guy!

Chatterbox

Jay is talking up a storm! He even uses real sentences, in a foreign-speaker sort of way. I now realize that I sounded like a toddler when I studied in France.

Here is a list of my favorites:

• booch = boost (especially used at the play structure in Chick-fil-A, which means I have to contort myself into a kid-size twisty tube. This is the only time I wish he would grow faster.)


• boom boom = hammer


• mommy's hell0 = my phone


• wawie = water


• big wawie = waves at the beach


• ding ding = xylophone


• my job, = things he wants to do by himself


• Jay self, me self = doing things by himself (which lately is taking off his diaper)


• Chia = Katrina (a babysitter)
  

He also has wonderful multi-pitch ways of saying "okay," "yeah," and "wow." I love the tongue roll he uses for "l"s in words like "blue" and "balloon." And I miss the clicks he made with his tongue for "yes."

I'm sure I've missed a few classics, so I'll be updating this list periodically.

Back in the Blues

Here I am, back in the blues. For the past week, I’ve been in a bit of a downward spiral. It’s frustrating because I had been feeling much better. Being depressed is so…depressing.

Going to a four year old’s birthday party at a jump castle venue yesterday didn’t help. I talked myself into going because I miss my friends. I should have known that a big, loud, chaotic crowd wasn’t the best way to ease back into a social life (even at my best, crowds aren’t my thing). I felt as awkward and anxious as I did in high school around the “in” clique. Not fun! But Cole had a great time, so I’m somewhat glad I sucked it up and went.

I can’t help feeling that if I sucked it up more, I would be able to pull myself out of this. If I followed the standard advice--went on long walks, meditated, took bubble baths, and practiced yoga--I would feel better. All I want to do, however, is burn the pile of magazines with their perky 10-Steps-to-Happiness articles.

In my head, I know I can't make myself better--getting the medication right is the main thing. So we’ve added another medicine to the mix and will start to reduce the amount of another. According to my doctor, we’ll know it’s working when I no longer have unreasonable anxiety and sadness. Instead, emotions will be appropriate to the situation. Really?! I can hardly imagine. What will I do with all that extra emotional energy?! Maybe I’ll actually be able to take those bubble baths, go for walks on the beach, meditate, and do yoga!

Unfortunately, it will take another month to know if the new drug is working. I wonder how many more months will be taken by this trial-and-error process. It’s hard not to have guarantees like there are with antibiotics for infections and casts for broken bones. I am grateful, however, that these drugs exist. In the recent past, they weren’t available. I can't imagine life without them.

I recently watched a show on PBS about depression. It focused a lot on the strides scientists are making on treatments. I learned that the reason drugs take so long to work is that they actually create new brain cells in the frontal lobe. It’s comforting to know my brain chemistry is changing because what it is now isn’t working. In the future, scientists will know even more about depression and discover better ways of dealing with it—something to remain hopeful for!

Jumping Jay

Jay loves to jump! When he wants to jump really high, he grabs his crotch to help him get air. At first we thought he needed a diaper change. It took a few times for us to catch on to his unique form. The ideas toddlers have are amazing and often hilarious. I love this age.

To All the "Nonworking" Moms

The babysitter we hired to help this summer has cried uncle!

She said she was exhausted by the long hours and the constant chaos of two small boys. This is a 21-year-old college student who I am sure (if I remember correctly) can pull all-nighters and remember what she read the next day, drink more than one beer and not feel hung over for a week, and stay up later than 9:00 pm and still be cheerful the next day.

HA! Try doing it when you're more than a decade and a half older without evenings and weekends free!

(She is now spliting the time with a friend of hers.)

A Big Thank You! (And a big sigh of relief!)

I am feeling much, much better—-almost “normal” in fact. I’m finally at the full doses of the medication, which I believe has made a huge difference. I don’t feel drugged; I just feel like myself again, which is very good feeling. I’m trying to be more aware of how I am doing, so I don’t get blindsided again, as well as trying to get on a regular schedule with sleep, meals, and exercise.

I’ve been overwhelmed by people’s responses to my depression. I’m so grateful to my parents (both sets of them) for driving or flying great distances to be here for us. I believe it would have taken much longer to recover without their support. They took over the household business and allowed me to rest and play with the boys when I felt up to it. And now, they have provided a sitter for the summer, which is absolutely the best thing anyone has ever done for me!

My friends also have been amazing in the care they have shown me—bringing suppers over, dropping by to say “hello,” calling often to see how I’m doing, and making plans for me to get out of the house. It’s hard to ask for help when feeling so bad, but they made it easy by just doing it. I can never thank them enough. I’m so grateful to have such wonderful friends.

Family and friends who live in other places have also been very supportive—from writing and calling to sending flowers. Despite great distances and not as much communication as we would like, I know we will always remain close and be there for each other.

I’m sure I’ll write more about this experience, but I’ll also get back to more cheerful things, like the boys who are as cute and wonderful as ever.

Deep Blue Musings

It's been well over a month since the last post. Usually the first post after a hiatus would contain pictures and stories about all the fun we have had in the previous month. This time, however, is different. This time I was flattened by major depression.

Looking back, I can see that it had been descending for weeks, slowly seeping into my everyday life. At first it seemed insignificant, a bit of weariness from the stay-at-home-mom grind. I tried to ignore it, but, like a small child, that only made it more persistent.

I lived in a heavy fog that separated me from the rest of the world. I spent all my energy faking normalcy: I got up in the morning, prepared meals, and took out the recycling. All the stuff of my daily routine, yet nothing seemed real.

Gradually, the fog thickened. I began to skip activities and turned the TV to Nick Jr. all morning. Phone calls went straight to voicemail; e-mails went unanswered. I stopped doing laundry, stopped showering, stopped caring.

The fog had engulfed me.

Yet I forged on. In the grips of major depression, I could not see that I was depressed. I only saw that I was failing—as a mom, a wife, a friend, a sister, a daughter. I blamed myself completely and wondered how other moms kept their lives so together. The guilt I felt overwhelmed me.

Then, one morning, after taking the boys to preschool, I was completely unsettled. My mind felt wrapped in sandpaper, my nerves twitchy like live wires in the rain. I wandered aimlessly around the house and took stock of my failures: a long to-do list, dinner dishes in the sink, toys strewn all over the family room, smudgy fingerprints on the windows, etc., etc. It was too much.

I found refuge in my son's closet hideout. There my facade shattered and, finally, I wept.

After a while, I managed to call my husband at work. He picked up the boys at preschool and came home to find me curled in bed crying. I don’t remember much of the next few days, except a feeling of utter exhaustion and complete despair.

Thankfully, my husband took charge. He stayed home from work for days, called both sets of our out-of-state parents to arrange help, made an appointment with my doctor, and took care of the boys. (He is now an official candidate for sainthood.)

It has been one month from that morning in the closet: a month of around-the-clock help with the boys, doctor appointments, adjustments in medication, and waiting. Just waiting.

I can tell I am getting better. Slowly. I can feel the fog thinning and I feel hope that it will soon lift.

I debated whether to blog about this. It would have been easier to post a silly picture of the boys. But I decided there were many reasons to share the past month with you.

Because family and friends have asked me to be honest with them.

Because I have written about my feelings in journals since childhood, but that no longer feels like enough comfort.

Because I am learning a lot about depression and I need a way to distill the information.

Because when I tell people about this experience, I hear personal stories of how depression has affected them or their loved ones.

Because of the community found in blogging and the silence about mental health that still pervades our society.

And, finally, because everyone needs to feel like they are not alone.

Jay's New Look

Grandma bought Jay a baseball helmet after he put it on in Toys R Us and wore it the entire time we were there. He loves it even though it is several sizes too big and he wears it backwards. Lately he has worn it out to lunch, to the grocery store several times, and to pick up Cole at school.

He also has developed a fondness for carrying purses. It is completely hysterical when he wears both accessories at the same time. (Grandma Carlene, you may notice that Jay's purse used to be yours. I'm not sure if he'll give it back to you when you visit. He does pay you tribute though and says "Ya-ya" every time he wears it.)

Cole's 4th Outer Space Birthday Party

Whenever anyone asked Cole what he wanted for his birthday, the only thing he said was "a real rocket ship that I can sit in and steer." Not quite something we could pick up at Toys 'R Us. So Rob went to Lowe's hoping to get a refrigerator box. However, refrigerators don't come in boxes anymore, so we were out of luck. But the grandfatherly guy working asked Rob why he needed a box and got a bit misty-eyed when Rob told him he wanted to build a rocket for his son's birthday. He gave Rob the biggest heavy-duty sheet of cardboard I've ever seen. Within an hour, we had a brand new rocket in our backyard.

Going with the rocket idea, we held an outer space party at our house. The rocket was a huge hit with both the kids and parents. Poor Rob was on repair duty all afternoon with the duct tape and spray paint. The guy wires were added after a handful of kids crowded inside the rocket and knocked it over, giggling hysterically the whole time. Once the sun started going down it got a little chilly outside, so the kids designed space scenes with foam pieces until the pizza arrived.

The rocket cake was a hit also, but I wish I had been more careful with the frosting. Some things shouldn't be done at the last minute. Note the kid in the red shirt sitting next to Cole with his eyes on the cake. He managed to blow out a candle before we even finished singing Happy Birthday. I was proud of the way Cole handled it. He just waited patiently while we relit the candle then blew them all out.

My little guy is turning into big boy.

Jay's 2nd Birthday Party at Gymboree

Finally, the pics from Jay's Gymboree Party. The birthday boy had a blast, as did all his friends. He was so enthusiastic about everything--bubbles, maracas, balls, and especially the cake. As we sang Happy Birthday, Jay leaned in to get closer to the cake and about fell in it. Everyone sighed with relief as he regained his balance, especially the Gymboree girl, who had a look of sheer panic cross her face at the thought of wearing the cake. All in all, it was a great way to bring in the Terrific Twos!

What's in Your Nose?

Cole has a snail in his.

One of his preschool teachers told him that if he picks his nose, a snail that lives there will bite his finger. I think it is a cute way to avoid spreading some preschool germs. Rob, however, is greatly disturbed.

When the snail came up in conversation the first time, Rob spent at least 30 minutes trying to convince Cole that his teacher was kidding.

He looked up Cole's nose and had Cole look up his to prove snails weren't there. Cole replied, "You can't see them. They're up really high."

Rob explained that there's nothing for a snail to eat there. Cole's rely was something along the lines of "Duh, it eats boogers."

Rob even resorted to "Who do you believe, your teacher or your daddy." The teacher won, much to Rob's dismay (I think homeschooling seriously crossed his mind).

In fact, Rob's attempts to dissuade have made Cole believe even more firmly. The snail is a regular topic of conversation now. Cole has determined that it lives in "the hard part" at the bridge of his nose; it doesn't mind sneezes, only fingers; and that everyone has a snail, even if he (i.e., daddy) doesn't believe it.

Ah, The Good Ole Days

While talking to Rob, Cole said,

"Remember when I was three, back in the olden days..."

Rob doesn't remember what ancient history they were talking about because he was trying so hard not to laugh.

Update to Bedtime Drama

The other night picking the bedtime book to read to Cole seemed too easy. “You pick, Mama,” he said graciously, and I was surprised and heartened by his offer. I chose Library Lion. “Noooo. Not that one.”

“OK, how about If You Give a Mouse a Cookie?”

“Noooo.” He sighed like I imagine I sigh at his typical lunchtime choices (a plain bagel, a plain hotdog bun, or plain Cheerios).

“Harold and the Purple Crayon?”

“Nooo. We read that one before.”

“Why don’t you pick then?”

“No, Mama. I said you get to pick tonight.”

And on and on we went until, finally, I picked out the book he wanted to read in the first place.

Note to Self at Five O'Clock in the Morning

Never, ever, ever again make yourself a double latte at four o'clock in the afternoon--even if it is Day 4 of Rob's week-long business trip, even if the boys' bedtimes are 3 1/2 enormous hours away, even if you would kill for a little more energy, because tomorrow is going to be here in only 3 hours and you have yet to sleep.

I forsee another extra-strong double latte in a few hours and lots and lots of Blues Clues.

Bedtime Drama

Bedtime with Cole is a test of patience and control. I am constantly amazed at the ways in which he drags it out. Usually, it starts well enough—the promise of a bedtime story sends him scampering up the stairs. Unfortunately, choosing the story is not so easy.

He stands at the bookcase for what seems like eternity sliding books off and on the shelf. I once moved half the books into the closet in an attempt to make the decision less difficult, but then, after contemplating each book on the shelf, he asked to see the books in the closet, and we went through the same agonizing process but this time with me lifting his 35 pounds up to the closet shelf.

After we read the chosen book, he looks up at me and sweetly says, “Can we wead anoder one, pwease?” And, of course, I say yes because I love reading to him, the warmth of him nestled in my lap, and the smell of his hair as it tickles my nose (can he really be tall enough for his hair to tickle my nose?). Then I realize that I’ve fallen, once again, for his ploy to delay bedtime.

Trying to regain the upper hand I say, “If you brush your teeth quickly, we can read another short book.” He jumps up and does his hilarious cartoon wind-up then yells, “I’m fast as a rocket. Swoosh.” It’s really funny because he runs like Phoebe from Friends with arms and legs flailing in all directions. We get the bathroom business done, then race back and read the second story.

Next, I struggle to put a diaper and pajamas on a squirmy boy while he is laughing outrageously and trying to fall off the desk/changing table on purpose. As his legs swing around wildly, one whacks me in the face, which is even more hilarious to him than the squirming, and results in more kicking, flailing, and laughing. I am not amused. I silently curse Rob who always roughhouses with him, even minutes before bedtime.

Somehow I get him in the PJs and safely in bed. He had been sleeping in a toddler bed with a tent over it; however, one night last week he came out of his room and announced that he has to sleep in our bed because his feet hang off the end of his. We immediately moved him into the double bed that was our guest bed (despite the tempting idea of having him as a roommate). He doesn’t want to use the big blanket or bedspread; instead, he curls up in the middle of the bed with his little, crib-size quilt. He looks so small!

I can’t put the quilt on him until he is ready, which takes much tossing and turning. If I get impatient and toss the quilt on him before he has reached the perfect position, he tells me that I can’t put the “bwankeyette” on before he says so. And he won’t say so until after a few more minutes of squirming. I’ve discovered that it goes much faster if I can wait for him to settle down on his own. I try very hard not to sigh or roll my eyes at his attempts at control.

Once he is in bed and covered, we move on to the light. There is a fine line between too dark and too light, and only Cole knows where it is. He stares intently at the light fixture saying, “Lighter….darker….a little lighter….darker,” and so on and so forth as I spin the dimmer switch. Sometimes he points up for lighter and down for darker. Recently he started saying “warmer” and “colder.” Most nights I swear the light ends up exactly the same as when we started.

Then we both say, “Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite” and I try to close the door.

“WAIT! I want the fan on.”
“WAIT! I need something to drink. My body is soooo thirsty.”
“WAIT! The light is shining in Kitty Cat Cat’s eyes.”
“WAIT! Could you rub my back?”
“WAIT! My nose is stuffy. I need the humidifier.”

Finally, I firmly say goodnight and shut the door. If we are lucky, he is down for the night. If not, we hear his little voice come down the stairs. His best reason for getting out of bed came a few night ago:

“Excuse me, Mommy. I have earwax.”

Tonight was a good night, which means I’ll get to post this. I have hope that one day he’ll fall asleep much easier. Of course when that day sneaks up on me, I’ll be upset that he doesn’t need me as much. Another Catch-22 of motherhood.

Smitten

Over the long weekend we enjoyed a visit from our friends Jason, Jen, and their 3-year-old daughter Abby. Cole loves visitors and he was a great host. During the house tour, he pointed out everything in excrutiating detail, spending the majority of time in the master bathroom (“This is the toilet, this is the toilet paper…”).

Abby was all girl, with twirly pink Barbie pajamas, princess high heels, and a lovely silk rose to carry. From the first hello, Cole was smitten. And, as a typical boy, he thought wrestling, pushing, and screaming were the best displays of affection. He also thought civil disobedience would impress and spent more time in time-out than any other weekend in his life, especially on the last day of their visit when I became so exasperated that I banished him to his bedroom. Poor Abby didn’t know what to think, although she soon warmed up to the nightly wrestlemania bouts and games of jumping off the furniture onto Rob.

Although we had loads of fun visiting the Children’s Museum and Aquarium, I had the best time watching the kids interact (Jay was the tag-along, third wheel as is his lot in life as the little brother). Abby sings constantly and at one point, Cole accompanied her on the xylophone. (Later, when I asked Cole what his favorite part of Abby’s visit was, he sighed dreamily, “Her singing. She sings lots of pretty songs.”) Another time, we found the two of them snuggled in Cole’s tent-bed reading books, then overheard Abby say, “C’mon Cole, let’s go lie in my bed.” It was hard not to flash forward a decade or so and imagine Cole sneaking little red-headed girls into his room.

The cats were a little less fond of our visitors since they brought their dog Reggie. Jetsie went on the offense and after two attacks, which left Reggie cowering in the corner, spent the weekend locked in our bedroom. At first Jay was scared of Reggie. His only experience with dogs has been with the neighbors’ yippie, jumpy, ADD chiuaua. I was very happy that by the end of the weekend, Jay was petting the dog. I imagine Reggie left our house very glad that Abby is a girl and an only child.