Just a few anecdotes.

1. Ashton's prayer at dinner tonight:

"Thank you for . . . " [Ashton, you forgot the first part]
"Dear Heavenly Father,
Thank you for this day, thank you for the food, thank you for Lego Starwars pens, thank you for Santa that he came, thank you for the food.
In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen."

2. One week ago:

Ashton, referring to the many wonderful goodies our neighbors brought this Christmas, snuck up to Aukai and softly whispered, "Dad, I have a great idea. Let's eat all of the treats right now!"

3. Last week:

While trying to think of an appropriate punishment for Ashton, Aukai asked him, "What should I do with you?" Ashton whispered quietly in his ear, "Leave me alone."

4. During our trip to Pittsburgh:

Isaac announced, "Mom, I think I know why they call it Pennsylvania. I bet everybody writes with PENCILS!"

5. Also during our Pittsburgh trip:

While we were parking our car, Ashton pointed to a nearby house with Christmas lights and stated, "That's my friend's house." [Ashton has many "friends."] When we left he insisted we drive by 3 times to say goodbye to his "friends." Since that time, whenever we see a house with Christmas lights we ask, "Is that you friend's house?" to which he replies, "Oh yeah, that is my friends house!" or when in a more playful mood, simply blurts, "Yup."

6. Last week:

While I was in the shower, Isaac yelled from downstairs, "Mom, Ashton's eating the chocolate chips!" One minute later, when I hadn't done anything, Isaac appeared in the bathroom saying, "Mom, I told Ashton not to get into the chocolate chips and he won't listen to me." I peaked from behind the curtain and saw a mouth covered in chocolate and a hand cradling something dark and gooey. "Isaac, what are you eating?" "Oh," he said sheepishly, "I forgot."

Family Portait

From the desk of Aukai:

Isaac made this beautiful family portrait for us . . .

and Luke Skywalker cutting off Darth Vader's hand on the left.

. . . I am the one on the left. Here is photographic evidence that, contrary to common opinion, I do NOT have a big head. :)

My family.

Just a quick photo my sis took while I was interviewing in SLC. Wonderful to see my family. Hard to leave. My sister posted a more dignified photo, but this one is so much more fun. :)

Happy Halloween

Isaac and Ashton posing by their pumpkins . . . except the pumpkins are switched here. Both of the boys wanted angry, scary pumpkin faces. We drew a mock-up on paper and then on the pumpkins before carving them. After finishing his own pumpkin Ashton became distraut because he realized Isaac's had more sharp teeth than his did; but when we put in the candles, he decided his was OK after all.



The boys decided they wanted to be Mario and Luigi for Halloween. Aukai found a simple pattern for the hats and I sewed them together . . . the whole project took about 2 hours and cost about $30, including the shirts. Good pic boys!! :)





Anybody who has lived at Whipple Park knows our delightfully sensitive fire alarms have made the fire truck regular celebrities with the kids. They have since made it a tradition to come and hand out candy to the kids at Halloween . . . I love it!

I'll take her.

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Thanks Heather

I found this blog courtesy of Heather Rigby, courtesy of Wendy Jones, courtesy of I haven't the foggiest whom. It made my day. If you are in the mood for some good old fashioned sarcasm and sacrilege, click here: www.myregisblog.blogspot.com If sacrilege really isn't your thing, I suggest www.lds.org.

NYC - Part III

The Natural History Museum:
More than anything, I was amazed at the sheer size of this museum, built in a beautiful classically-inspired building. Overall, the museum design was very traditional, which was a little bit of a let-down after the museum at Thanksgiving Point, but it is pretty hard to top a life-size blue whale hanging from the ceiling . . .

Central Park:

My friends kept telling me, "You need to take the kids to Central Park." My first impulse was, "We have parks in Rochester . . . why would I spend the money on a hotel to go to a park here?"

Once we got there I understood why.

People always talk about New Yorkers being cold. We didn't find this to be true. (It's 4:00 AM and I'm lost in NYC. Stop thanking me for choosing your hotel and just tell me where the dang parking garage is.) Adults were quick to start a conversation at the park or train, and the kids were even quicker. Half-way down this slide, I heard this girl yell to Isaac, "By the way, what's your name?"

Isaac and Ashton enjoying a street performance over lunch.

NYC - Part II

Ellis Island:
You can't go to the Statue of Liberty without going to Ellis Island (You already paid for the ferry ride). By this time in the trip, we were exhausted by long lines and huge crowds, but the kids were still fascinated by small models of old villages while Aukai and I gawked at 100 year-old portraits of immigrants.

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FAO Shwartz:

OK, so there are two awesome toy stores in New York, and while Toys

'R Us does tote a ferris wheel (yes, inside the store), you can't beat the charm of FAO Schwartz (now also owned by Toys 'R Us). It has some of that local toy store feel . . . wrapped into a 2-story, gigantic floor plan.

You know it is our kids because they are crossing the red tape to poke each other with the dragon's tale.

Our favorite part was this giant piano from the movie "Big."

When we got to Batman action figures, Ashton said "Mommy, this is Batman." Then pointing to the Joker he said, ". . . and this guy is Batman's mommy." I'm not sure how I feel about that.

NYC - Part I

So after living in Rochester for 3 1/2 years, we finally made it to 'the city' for a dear friend's wedding. We had a blast, both at the wedding and during the following days as tourists.

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The Wedding:

Unfortunately my pics of Anna's wedding didn't turn out (poor camara, low light . . . it happens). Just imagine bouquets in subtle lab glassware, elegant draperies, and killer dance music in a refurbished warehouse. Oh, and Isaac spending half the time dancing with Anna's niece (adorable).

For more info on Anna's Wedding, check out her blogspot: http://doctorwhimsy.blogspot.com/

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The Statue:

The kids were fascinated by the Statue of Liberty . . . and with all the tourist antics. On the way back Ashton saw a guy dressed up as Spider Man . This was his story about it:
"Umm . . . some aliens came down to Earth, and then they saw Spider Man and they said "What the Heck" and then they got in their ship and ran away."

Smart Aliens.

Atlanta

How do you have fun flying to another city to take an exam? Take your husband and go to the world's largest aquarium the day before.

P.S. Thank you to the Scoresbys and Yermans for watching our boys!!!

My Little Monsters

Aukai and I just started some sort of creative activity each morning with the boys. This morning they wanted their faces painted as a dinosaur and "dark blue monster." (With Ashton, everything has to be "dark blue.") Isaac and Ashton spent about 5 minutes scaring themselves as they roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws. They then went to show off to their sweet friend next door who quite decidedly did NOT want to be painted like a monster.

She's done it again

Zion made this whimsical 8-layer birthday cake for an eight year old girl. Her parents were out of town getting medical treatment for her brother, so Zion wanted to bring her an extra-special surprise. The flavor is white cake with raspberry syrup and milk chocolate truffle. Each layer of cake is a different color inside.
Zion had lots of helpers. Two friends came in the morning to learn how to make cakes. I came in the afternoon to help with the best part: rolling fondant and decorating the cake. Thanks Zion!

 

Peach Picking

Last week, Aukai went on a 50 mile bike ride with the scouts, leaving the boys and I home alone. What's a girl to do? Grab her two wonderful neighbors and go peach picking, of course. We had a blast, and the boys LOVED having their friends along. Unfortunately, my camara died after only a few of pics, but here are some that turned out well:

 

 

 

 

Classic Isaac

Grandma gave Isaac a compendium on insects, affectionately known in our house as "the bug book." Isaac LOVES the bug book. He poors over it and stays up at night looking at the pictures.
Isaac now knows more about bugs than I do. He loves repeating, in his best super-hero voice, phrases like "Mom, this bug is the Master of Disguise!" or "This spider is an eight-legged shredding machine." Move over batman . . . it's pretty hard to top that.
A few days ago, Aukai was eating lunch with the kids when Isaac ran to the screen door and yelled something to our neighbors. Yesterday, we found out why.
After a grasshopper narrowly escaped the up-close-and-personal inspection of our little friends, their mommy explained that the grasshopper "flew away." This launched a heated debate about whether grasshoppers jump or fly. Suddenly Isaac swung open the screen door, mouth full of PB&J, and yelled, "Actually, some grasshoppers can fly!" He shut the door and ran back to finish his sandwich. That's Isaac for you . . . ridding the world of injustice and, umm, misconceptions about bugs.
As Annie said: "It was just classic Isaac."

Exercise partner

I (Aukai) went on a run this morning with Ashton because everyone else in my family was asleep. It started out with me asking him if he wanted to go on a run, to which he replied yes. His yes, however, meant that he run with me and not in the running stroller. Since I can run a little faster than his 3-year-old legs will take him I was forced to negotiate. So we took a scooter ride around the block first and then we went on our run, after which he would run outside of the stroller.

When we got back, I took him out for the cool-down walk afterwards and let him know that it was his turn to run. So he walked; and about halfway through he wanted me to carry him. I didn't feel like it, so we played the walking, walking, hop, hop, running, and stop game on the way home. When we got home I needed to stretch on the grass in front of our house, and during my stretching he wanted to sit on my lap. I gave in after I suggested that he sit on his own lap and he put me in my place by informing me that he doesn't have three laps but I do. It is somewhat difficult to stretch with a little kid climbing on you as you try to think up ways to distract him so you can actually get some good out of it; but it sure was cute.

I met Death yesterday.

He was nothing like you see in the movies. He did not wear a hood or carry a seive. Nor did he wear the face of an aged man gasping for air. No, yesterday he chose to meet me in a baseball cap and high tops. As if embracing the irony he laughed. I breathed it in, tried to cleanse my soul of the truth that was coming.

He was taken for a walk "so he doesn't have to listen." I watched his parents hand the doctor his living will. She read it out loud: "Do not resuscitate, do not intubate, no antibiotics . . . " And then the questions. Will he be able to start swallowing better? Will he be get out of his wheelchair? Are there any more tests? Any more medicines?

And as I stood and listened to talk about comfort care and autopsies his father looked at me, the black fly in the corner, as if to plead for some sense of doubt. I closed my eyes, trying to pretend he wasn't calling out for something, anything to save him from this nightmare. Because I didn't want my eyes to lie.

Death doesn't come to torture the dying. We have medicines to treat pain, nausea, breathlessness. Death comes to torture the living. And as I watched this man pound his fist against the wall and sob, all I could think of was the silence that would fill his 6 AM breakfast when it was no longer interupted by a child's desire to spend a few minutes with Dad.

Toe Tales

So I'm sitting there minding my own business when this 11 year old toe-head boy comes up to me and says:

"Excuse me Maam, but did you know your toes are stuck together?"

Now apart from the fact that I resent being old enough to be called "Maam," there was the potential for so many ridiculous responses:

1. You know, thanks for pointing that out, I'd never noticed that I my toes are fused together.
2. Yup, I had the doctor do that so that I could swim better. I almost swam in the Olympics, but they disqualified me based on the operation.
3. I know I'm a freak, just leave me alone!

But instead I smiled politely and said, "Why yes, I did know that."

The smile spread to his face as his mom explained that he had the same thing and was starting to feel self-conscious about it. So I had him bust off his shoes and show me. Sure enough, we matched.

I explained to him that it is called incomplete simple/soft-tissue syndactyly and that about 1 in 200 people have it. Many people in my family bear these toes and it has become a source of "Mead pride." At the age of 4, my twin sister and I were shocked to learn, after arguing with our friend, that we were the "freaks" and not she. I learned at about his age that I could have an operation to separate them, but couldn't understand why I would want to.

Most importantly, I counseled him to severely mock anybody who thinks they were the first person witty enough to ask "Can you swim better?" to which he sincerely and quickly replied, "But I can! I swim so much better!"

That's fine. Whatever helps you embrace your identity, Kid. In the mean time, I'll keep embracing mine, even if I do sometimes wonder what it would feel like to spread my toes out wide.

Fun in the rain.

This has been the wettest summer of my life. There have been only rare days where we haven't gotten at least some rain here in Rochester. By some rain, I mean sudden-onset thunder with a blanket of water. It is exhilarating.

Round 1: Today, after spending 1/2 an hour changing out of my work clothes, getting the kids to put on their shoes, coaxing them out of the sandbox, away from the swings, across the road and out of a puddle, I finally made it to the vegetable garden . . . just as the first drops of rain began to fall. Ashton climbed into my arms and tucked his face into my shirt saying "It's getting on me."
In defiance I retorted, "It's getting better, see it's going to go away." just as the rain drops grew to the size of pistachio nuts. Fine. "Isaac, take your brother over to the playground and hang out under the bridge." I began weeding around our sorry, yellow tomato plants until I realized that with all the water spilling over my back I might as well be weeding in a swimming pool. I picked a few woody turnips and conceded this round to the rain.

Round 2: I ran to the playground, only to find that the kids had NOT decided to take shelter under the bridge and now looked like happy drowned rats. I hesitated, set down the turnips, and climbed up the slide with them, plummeting down into a fat, juicy mud puddle. Isaac and Ashton got some serious air, landing full-body into the sloppy mess. After the kids' faces were caked with mud and I had no clean area of clothing left to wipe their eyes, we finally came home. Luckily, the rain washed most of the mud off before Aukai laughed at us.
I win round 2.

Final score: Rain 1, Heather 1. There will be a tie-breaker later this weekend.

Twinkled

I was tucking Isaac into bed when he turned to me and said, "Mom, I don't want you to die."

Me: "I don't want to die either, but it is a normal part of life. Besides, I don't think it will happen for a very, very long time."

Isaac: "I hope Jesus comes and twinkles us soon."

M: "Are you talking about the millenium?"

I: "Ya, I hope Jesus comes and twinkles us so you will be alive again and Grandma will be young again."

M: "Where did you learn about that?"

I: "In Primary."

M: "You learn a lot of things in primary, don't you."

I: "Ya, but only good stuff."

M: "Well, Isaac, I don't expect I will die until you are old and have children of your own. But if I do, you need to know that even though you can't see or hear me, there is part of me that will always be with you."

I: "You will be my guardian angel, right Mom."

M: "Right."

I: "Will you be Daddy and Ashton's guardian angel too?"

M: "Yes."

I: "I guess you can be Ashton's guardian angel as well, if you want to be."

Favorites

My family is sitting on the bench waiting for our airplane.

Isaac turns to me and says, "This is so cool, I am next to Daddy and Asthon is next to you, Mommy."

"Well would it still be cool if you were next to me and Ashton were next to Daddy?"

"Ya, I am starting to like you and Dad the same now."

"Oh really. Why is that?"

"Well, you used to be my favorite, but Daddy was gone for while, so now I like you and him the same."

Flying Home

There are two ways to fly into Salt Lake City.

The first is to fly North to Idaho and then fly South over the Wasatch Front. All you can see are mountains.

The second way is to come from the South and fly North, following the path of Highway 89. The stewardess had said she thought we were coming in over Idaho, so I was surprised when I saw a big, intrusive "Y" pasted to the side of the mountain.

This way is always a little strange to me because, in a literal and figurative way, you see your past from an aerial view: Brigham Young University, what I assume to be Mount Timpanogos (but I'm not quite sure because I have never been able to see the "woman" on top), the point of the mountain, the eerily well-organized Salt Lake City, the Capital Building, the Great Salt Lake, the oil refinery, the beautiful rose sunset colored by pollution from the oil refinery, the Bountiful Temple. It gives me a chance to reflect about where I was, where I am now, and if I am anywhere near where I expected to be.

It's a bit nostalgic and uncomfortable.

My New Favorite Blog

My husband recently came across a blog called 6yearmed. It is written by a clever and insightful 2nd year resident in pediatrics. Like a drug, I can’t stop reading it, even though it makes me cry.

I cry because the tales she tells are heart-wrenching and honest.

I cry because I’ve watched my own patients through similar journeys.

I cry because I am angry. Angry at her for having something that I am desperately afraid of loosing. This past year has been wonderful, but it has also been somewhat akin to breathing polluted air. The greater part of it keeps you alive, but there is a part of it that slowly poisons you, and I am frightened that I will some day turn around to find some fumigating lung cancer stealing my breath away.

There is something very painful about this journey. Sometimes it feels like the harder you try the harder things get. Because you are exhausted. And you say or do something that your peer misinterprets to mean that you are trying to screw him. Or a resident accuses you of being a bad parent and your husband is so tired and frustrated that you are convinced she must be right. Or you stay late with a patient only to be griped at the next morning for not spending more time because you slept in. Or you accidentally say something that makes a mother cry for 5 minutes and you cry for 5 days.

I cry because I am hate myself for being so human.

But most of all I cry because it offers hope. Hope that, even as this resident struggles with these same questions, there is a chance to retain one’s humanity amongst all the noise and bureaucracy that is medicine. And that maybe, if I don’t give up and if I turn to my patients, I can remember why I came to medical school and, with some luck, become the kind of doctor and person I want to be.

The Secret Behind the Curtain and other Tales

Aukai has one and only one rule regarding potty training: don't even try it until your boy is at least 3 years old. He adopted this rule from his mother who, after raising 13 children of her own, told him that training at 2 1/2 was too young. (After raising 11 boys, how can you argue with her.) So now that Ashton has finally turned three we have tried to kick up the potty training, checking out children's books on potty time, flaunting "big boy pants" as motivation, we've even offered gummy worms if he sits on the potty, but no bites yet.

The one thing all of this has done is heightened his awareness of his own bodily functions. A few nights ago he was taking a bath with the curtain half-closed. Suddenly, he got very quiet and peaked around the curtain. With somnolence, he pointed to the other side of the tub and whispered, "Mommy. There's Wee-wee's. Over there."

I didn't have the heart to tell him that if there was wee-wee's over there, it was everywhere.


= = = = = = = = = =

As my neighbors already know, bedtime in my house can be quite an ordeal.

A couple of nights ago, however, the fireworks were especially vivid. It started out with me putting Ashton's "wall-e" toothpaste on his toothbrush without prior authorization. You see, in our household, we can't just have 1 toothpaste. No, we have to have 4 different types collected from family gifts and dental visits, and even though Ashton consistantly prefers his "wall-e" it is necessary that we consult him each night to ensure that there has been no change in preference.

He did OK . . . at first, and then the next thing I know, I'm prying him off the pantry shelves with a crowbar because he knows if he eats he will get to brush his teeth again.

And then the fireworks start (by this time, it is past 11), and he has shut himself into the linen closet because he doesn't want to go downstairs because it is too far away from me but doesn't want to have to look at me. It is a complicated thing being a three year old.

At that point, I sat by the linen closet and tried to coax him to calm down enough to be able to talk to me. Finally, in shallow breaths and broken words he sniffled that he wanted to pick his own toothpaste. "Can you ask nicely?" Of course not, at this point it is a matter of principle.

But principle or not, he was ready to come out of the closet and talk to me. I asked if I could have a kiss. Again, on matter of principle, the answer was no as he ran towards me with his arms outstretched. And as he sat in my arms, a little ball of sniffles, I whispered in his ear, "I love you." Bursting into tears, his resounding reply was a simple, "me too" as if we were two lovers making up from a bitter fight. And I guess we were.

Isaac figures out just how smart I am . . .

I just finished a research elective. This means that after 5 weeks of surgery and several weeks of medicine my kids are finally starting to believe that I really do live here and remember that they once knew me as their mother. It has been a great opportunity for me to get to know them again as well.

For example, left with only his father to fend for him, Ashton is now able to prepare his own breakfast in the morning, including climbing 6 feet to the top shelf of our cupboard to pick out his favorite cereal. Isaac, on the other hand, has turned to song writing. His latest debut, "Pick the Wild Morning Glory" (the volume of which is about to crack my computer screen) will soon be released for purchase.

One of Isaac's favorite puzzles is a puzzle of the 50 states. I walked in on him starting the puzzle this morning and, looking right at me, he yelled out, "Dad, can you please help me." I smiled and kindly offered to help him. He gave me a look, shrugged his shoulders and said, "OK, but it might be pretty hard for you."

As we put the pieces in, I began reading off the name of each of the states. When we got to RI, Vermont and Conneticut, he looked at me in amazement. "Wow, Mom . . . you're smarter than I thought you were!"

Needless to say, I am relieved to find my cognitive abilities have the approval of a 4-year-old.

Mischief of one kind or another . . .

(Brownie points to anyone who knows where the title came from.)

When I was in high school, a friend of mine had a bumper sticker that said “When Irish eyes are smilin’, ya’ know they're up to somethin’.” I always found it amusing, but Ashton has given it a whole new meaning. Maybe it is his mischievous smile, or maybe it is the fact that he inherited Grandpa Riordan’s Irish eyes, but Ashton’s eyes always seem to be smiling, and he is usually up to something.
Take last week for example. It all started out with changing him into his PJ’s. What is the natural 2-year-old reaction? Hit Mommy, of course. Then it was time for time out. I plopped Ashton in the sitting room and decided to keep the lights low to help him “settle down.” It wasn’t 30 seconds later that I noticed the light on and Ashton happily sitting on the couch. When asked about the lights, he stated proudly, “I, I turn them ooonnnn.” I looked at him sternly, and reminded him that he was supposed to stay in time out. I turned the lights back off and had not turned my back for a moment before the light was back on and Ashton was scurrying back to the couch.
Then came time for bed. I had put Ashton down for just a minute when I noticed the door was shut. “Strange,” I thought, and opened the door to see Ashton running back to his bed. A minute later I noticed that Ashton was nibbling on something. Fortunately for me, he has not perfected the fine art of lying (see footnote 1), and he cheerfully admitted that he had used his ESP (see footnote 2) to find the crumbled cookie in my bag. This was just after brushing his teeth, which is somewhat akin to trying to brush the teeth of a crocodile.
So after re-tackling his teeth, I finally put him down amidst a barrage of protests. That is, until he stopped to think for a second and then purposefully hit me. Before I could say, “Ashton, you don’t hit!” he sprang up, ran across the room, sat down in a chair and cheerfully stated, “I get time out now!” I suppose he was very proud of his logic, and I must admit it was a clever way to get out of going to bed. Perhaps I need to rethink my discipline strategy at bedtime.

Footnote 1: When I say Ashton has not perfected lying, I do not mean to imply that he is not practicing. His latest trick is to hit his brother and then start crying himself, claiming, “Isaac, he he hit me.”

Footnote 2: I mentioned Ashton’s ESP for sweets . . . I really think he may have special goody-finding radar. It doesn’t matter where we hide candy; he seems to know where it is. While I was still in Rochester, my Mom took the boys to church. Between meetings, she turned around to find Ashton missing. Panicked, she sifted through the halls looking for the boy. She finally found him in the kitchen where he had spotted some candy stored on the top shelf, pulled a chair in from a neighboring room and was climbing to reach the goods.