The Fam.....

FIVE!!!!

... more info to come...

In this corner...

Well, Noah will be a year old this Sunday. I can't even believe how fast time is flying by. And suddenly I look at him, and he's so grown up already. What happened to my little baby? When he's asleep at night, I whisper to him that he's not allowed to get any older. That he must stop growing and changing. So far, he hasn't listened.

He's not walking independently yet. But here's the thing: he actually can. He can stand alone. He can take steps alone. But when he sees where he's going, he realizes he can get there faster by just crawling, so he sits and crawls. He'll hold a hand or a finger and walk around like that, but without assistance, he just doesn't see the benefit. He'll get there. He also doesn't really see the need to eat real food, when boob is readily available. Sure, he can take a few bites of rice or chicken or veggies, but not much. Why should he, when Mom is right there??? I guess he'll get there too when he's ready. He knows what a cow says ("mmmmoooooooo"), loves pattycake (because he gets to clap and hit things), and STILL LOVES BOXING. What is it with this kid? He has an obsession with boxing, the speedbag, watching boxing on tv, watching other people hot the bag or hit the mitts. I mean, if EVER a sport was in someone's blood, it's in his. He's been obsessed since 6 months old. Ivan is so proud. and Jose Luis can't wait to start training him. All I know is, he better be good, cause if anyone messes up that face, they're gonna have to deal with ME.

Mother's Day Gift Ideas

I think for this Mother's Day, I'm gonna give myself... permission to not feel guilt.

I am a good mom. Getting some of the laundry done is okay. We've never been without clean clothes to wear. My kids KNOW that I love them. Yes, I need to mop. But the sticky handprints on the walls mean that someone was having (unsupervised) fun.

No, my hair's not done. Yes, I look like I haven't slept in weeks. And no, I don't care. Why? Hear that sound? That's my kids laughing in the other room. (and the sound of a lamp crashing to the floor. but hey, there's laughter about that, too.)

I might not be the best wife. I might not be the best friend. or daughter. or sister. But when it comes to being solely responsible for someone else's life and development and happiness, that's gonna trump everything else around me. Sorry.

And each and every day, I do the little bit that I can. It's not profound, or beautiful, or grand. It's real. I really did just pick up dog poop, wipe a butt, wash everyone's hands, wash the dishes, pull a crayon out of a mouth, kiss a bump on the forehead, sing the alphabet song, nurse the baby, scream when he bit me, laugh when he laughed, apologize for not having time to read a story, re-stock the toilet paper, wipe another butt, and microwave leftovers. And every day, I struggle with the longer list of things that don't get done. The "didn't" list. And the fact that that list grows in multiples of three daily starts to chip away at my emotional stability. I can feel the tears well up sometimes. I feel my sens of humor slipping through my fingers. I can feel the sleep deprivation in my joints. I can see my unmanicured nails and unshaved legs.

But, I think for this Mother's Day, I'm going to give myself a moment to breathe, and do my best to forget about the "didn't" list for just a day.

About 10 years too early.

Me: You're not really wearing that to school, are you? (about Ella's lace skirt, jelly shoes, and pearl necklace)

Ella: It's my clothes, Mommy. I can wear it if I want. (toss of hair, spin on heel, walk away with attitude.)


I am soo not prepared to raise a tiny version of me circa 1994.

Shutup, Doc Marten's with sundresses were cool then.

2009, I am not your friend.

This year has started out rough.

January marked the beginning of Ivan's health issues.

February started a bevy of issues for Ella, including this, as well as a bad flu. Noah also fought that stomach flu.

March was more testing and e.r. visits for Ivan, as well as a double ear infection for Ella that required two rounds of antibiotics. We are also still fighting sinus issues for her.

Then two weeks ago, we got hit even harder. Noah started a super high fever, vomited through the night, so we took him to the e.r. at 5 am on a Saturday morning with a fever of 105. After poking him repeatedly to obtain blood samples and get an i.v. line started, they decided to admit him. His white blood cell count was 25,000. (apparently, normal level is 10-12 thousand.) He also showed signs of bronchitis on his chest xray. So we buckled down and spent three days sleeping in chairs, crying, talking to nurses, and eating hospital food. He was released on a Monday. That week, I took him for a checkup at his own doctor, who suggested that we maintain the course of liquid antibiotics prescribed by the hospital. So we did.



That was Thursday.

On Sunday, his fever spiked again. Monday it was up to 102. Another visit to the e.r. This time, we decided to go to C.H.O.C. because, of course, its reputation is impeccable, and we were starting to think something bigger was going on. We wanted to have Dr. House on speed dial. Well, apparently, everyone else had the same brilliant idea and nothing else to do on a Monday night, since all of Orange County was in that emergency room. Let's put it this way. There was a 2-hour wait and they were triage-ing people in groups of EIGHT. So we stayed for about an hour, during which Noah's fever started to come down and he started getting sleepier and fussier, and we felt no closer to seeing a doctor. So we took him home and kept an eye on him. He's been steadily getting better since then, the fever finally broke after two days of alternating Tylenol and Motrin, but he still feels sick. I can tell. And what makes it even harder is that he's such a good kid. Always smiling, always laughing. Even in the hospital. So it makes it hard to tell when something's wrong.

noah in the hospital

Anyway, we're all exhausted from the battle. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I don't know how families deal with terminally or perpetually ill children. And I saw many in the hospital. I pray every day now that we never have to experience anything worse than this, because I don't know that I can handle it.



But in that same prayer, I am always quick to thank God for every moment and every gift.



I'm ready for 2009 to get better now.

Ella Liebowitz

My mom got Ella a kid's digital camera for Christmas, and I'm pretty sure it's one of the best gifts she's ever received. At first, Ella's days were filled with walking around, using the camera's built-in funny template frames to take amusing photos of people and things around the house (see below). But recently, she's changed her M.O. to taking pictures of her little brother doing something incriminating (i.e., grabbing a plant, walking into the bathroom, playing with something not intended for baby consumption) and running to me to show me the digital evidence.

I hear a *snap* in the other room, and Ella runs to me with her camera in hand, pushes a button on the back of her camera (all the while smiling like the cat that ate the annoying younger canary) and she shows me a photo of Noah doing something naughty. She then turns to me and says, "Did you see, Mommy?"

I guess tattling has made it's way into the digital era.

Some of Ella's non-incriminating photos:

.. and then I painted his nails.

Ivan: Why is it that you go to the store for Baby Tylenol, and come home with hair clips, candy, a tabletop fountain, and body wash?

Me: You're such a boy.