Post-Thankgiving Reflections

Roman brought home his November journal on Friday. As I was reading through it, it was hard not to laugh right out loud. Sometimes you forget how observant children are.

For your holiday pleasure, I would like to share with you Roman's view of our house at Thanksgiving (trying to preserve the original spelling as much as possible.)

November 20, 09
For Thanksgiving my mom is going to bake a turkey. And is going to make a apple pie. Thoe they never have baked them. My mom made my dad make the pie becaues she was terufide (terrified) to bake one. They want to feel ecwle (equal).

November 30, 09
My mom didn't have to bake a turkey because we went to a friends hous and They baked a turkey. I saw teh drum stiks. We had a grate time. We had to eat a bite of everything we had on our plate.

I think that is probably the most insightful look that you may ever get into the workings of our family.

By the way, the bold, capitalized They above. His idea. Not mine.

Trick or Treat!

This year is the first year we took the boys trick-or-treating door to door.

Blaise, the dragon, and Roman, the sheriff

Back in Salt Lake City, it was always so cold by the time Halloween rolled around that the thought of being outside for a moment, not alone a prolonged period of time, was unwelcome. Not to mention there may or may not be snow to contend with. Also, we lived in an apartment complex, which turns out to be a terrible place to trick-or-treat. The last several years, we took the boys to the mall near our house to trick-or-treat there. No cold weather, no wind, no worry about strange houses.

This year, however, we decided to introduce the boys to the real thing. We met up with some family friends and drove to a nice suburban neighborhood.

I initially thought the boys would love it. Turns out traditional trick-or-treating takes a little getting used to. Roman was very hesitant to go up to the doors. All the decorations "scared" him. (He would like to say for the record nothing he saw actually scared him. Just saying.) And he got cold fairly quickly.

Blaise on the other hand, would have nothing to do with it. Even in his ridiculously cute dragon costume, he refused to participate. He cried most of the evening, insisted on being held, and was glad to head back to the car. (And I'll admit, there was a little relief on our side as well. Blaise is 3, and not small for his age.)

So it wasn't exactly the joyous occasion that childhood memories are made of.

On the other hand, they are currently sitting on the family room floor, screeching for joy over their payload and comparing candy buckets. All thoughts of being cold, scared, or overly tired are gone. Maybe this is what the good memories are made of.

Autumn Joy

Nothing says impromptu photos shoot like a mild October day and a huge pile of leaves.




Those smiles and blue eyes make my heart crumble and make every day worth it.

I think the reason I've been able to stay so positive over the last couple very difficult months is that I know every day, I'm coming home to this.


Some of these photos just may end up (after a little Photoshop work on some unwashed faces) on our Christmas cards this year. We'll have to see.

This Week and Next...

This week, I...

-finally got a day off after working 13 days in a row.

-switched from services from Surgical Intensive Care Unit to Cardiology Intensive Care Unit. Intern year is like having a new job every month. I don't do anything long enough to feel comfortable.

-went 48 hours without sleeping.

-then slept for 13 hours straight.

-got a new couch for our family room. After all, two months of watching TV on the floor is enough.

-make cookies with Roman and Blaise.

Every post must have pictures, so today, you get cookies.

-Placed a Swan-Ganz catheter, a catheter that measures pressures in a patient's right heart and pulmonary arteries, for the first time. A completely awesome procedure!

-Went pumpkin picking. And forgot my camera.

-Got the heater/cooler/windows/fan fixed in my car, just in time for weather to turn cold. Okay, Keith did this one.

-Watched snow fall from the window of a patient's room

-Balanced my checkbook.

-Yelled at the TV during a college football game.

-Make mashed cauliflower, which made the boys throw up at the table. I thought it tasted fine.

-Fell in love with my boys all over again.




This coming week, I plan on...

-Raking leaves.

-Celebrating Keith's birthday (two days late, because I am on call on his birthday. Boo.)

-Buying Keith a book for his birthday, and then hurry and read it.

-Carving pumpkins.

-Calling my sister.

-Going for a walk in the fall leaves. If it warms up just a little.

-Missing college football due to taking call on a Saturday.

-Considering opening my cardiology tutorial CD.

-Submitting a receipt for a ridiculously expensive textbook to hopefully get reimbursed.

-Kissing my boys after they fall asleep every night I am home.

A New Smile

Roman feels that now, finally, he is truly big.

He lost his first tooth today!


(And we are going to alter the memory of the entire event to have me there when it happened.)

He lost his first tooth, without strings, doorknobs, and heaven forbid, Leathermans. (Don't ask.) He lost it brushing his teeth.

He's been smiling all day. I'm pretty sure it's to drawn attention to the gap in his smile. Which just got cuter than ever.

Pictures of Fall

It is full blown fall now. While most the trees are still green(ish), there are more and more pops of red, yellow, and orange. It has started raining again, after an entire three weeks without rain. I'm telling you, Utah people, that's like a drought here in Iowa. It's supposed to fall below freezing tonight.

Full blown fall.


And we are doing our best to enjoy every minute.

A day at the lake, to have a beach picnic and play in the sand. And never mind that I said keep out of the water.



Leaf piles in the backyard.




More apple picking.


Because somehow we managed to eat fifteen pounds of apples in one week. I did make apple pie and apple crisp and we ate those too. But still, 15 pounds! Well, three of us ate 15 pounds of apples. Roman still insists he likes picking apples much more than he likes eating them.

At least someone loves apples.

Soon, more of the trees will change, and it will be time for more fall walks and drives.


Because soon it will be winter.


But for now, it is fall.

Quotalbe

Blaise, after having an episode of coughing: "I have a coffee (coughing) bean in my throat."

Roman, nearly every day: "So, when I was little..."

Blaise, when I came home after a call night: "Mom! I miss you all night!"

Roman, after learning about water traveling from roots to stems to leaves in plant: "I can't believe I never knew that!"

Blaise, having twisted open an Oreo and having all the creme on one side: "Hey, what's the big idea?"

Bucketfuls

Despite the fact that there were fantastic college football games on television perfect for watching, we got in the car and drove to a local orchard. Where there were apples perfect for picking.

I have always wanted to go apple picking.


And not just because I love apples. Which I do (even though I like peaches better.) But because it is something I want to do with Roman and Blaise. First, so they know that fruit actually is grown (Roman said on our drive over there: I never knew people had to grow peanuts. I thought they just made them somehow.) And secondly, which is always the most important one, because it is fun!

And we did have fun.

I love apples!

At the front of the orchard is a small store inside an old barn full of dusty sunlight and the smell of freshly made apple turnovers. We glanced over the map to see where the ripe apples were, grabbed our baskets, and headed out.


The orchard can be reached by tractor drive or by walking. We opted to walk. Down between pumpkin fields, over a foot bridge, and into the rows and rows of apples.


Over 130 variety of apples!!

Perfect Pick!

(Okay, not all of them were ripe. The orchard has many variety so that there are always apples ready, whether you go picking in August, late October, or mid September.)

The boys were delighted. They ran up and down the rows, picking the apples they could reach.

Please note Blaise's sampled apple

And since there is no charge for "sampling," they did plenty. Well, Blaise did. Roman insisted he only liked picking the apples and had no intention of eating any. Although he did take one bite when I said in that case, we're not buying any. (We were always going to. Because wow, those Honey Crisp apples are divine!)

I"m serious. I love apples, Mom!

So after an afternoon becoming sticky sweet and sun-soaked, we hauled our heavy baskets of apples back up to the store to bag and buy them.


Now, there are 15 pounds of apples on our kitchen counter. Between that and a boy who insists he still doesn't like apples, we should be well stocked for a while.

Making Friends

Roman started school several weeks ago. This move and new school makes this Roman's third school in three years.

He attended private kindergarten through his daycare center. Then he attended first grade at the public elementary school just down the street from us in Salt Lake City. Now he is attending the public elementary school right next door to us here in Iowa.

All these transitions make me worried.

Roman is shy, sometimes painfully so. He doesn't make friends easily. He is not a leader in groups of children, much more content to just go along with what other children are doing. Since school started (and even weeks before it did) I kept wondering how he was going to do.

Roman seems unfazed.

The day before school started, I asked him if there was anything he was worried about regarding the first day of school.

"No, I'm not worried. It's everyone's first day."

If only I could have that attitude more often.

Every day since that, I ask him about school. What he did during the day, what his favorite activity was. Between the questions about art class and gym, I ask about friends. Does he know the names of the children in his class? Who did he play with at recess? Has he made any friends?

Last week, he caught me at my worrying.

"Why do you ask every day if I have friends?"

"Because I don't want you to be lonely." That's what I said out loud. But it felt more like I was screaming it in my head. Because I want you to have friends, I want you to adjust well, I don't want you to ever resent me for taking you away from the handful of friends it took you over a year to make back in Utah. And almost like he hears the screaming and the panic, he stops me in my tracks.

"Don't worry. I'm never lonely."

The most natural feeling I have is one of protection. I want to shield my children from everything. From every hurt, from every disappointment, for every disturbing image on the news. I want them to be happy, secure, safe. I want them to have a feeling of belonging. Despite the drive to over-protect them, the boys continue to show that they are adjusting well, that they are happy.

One of the reasons we chose to come to Iowa (among many others) was the quality of the schools. When I was interviewing in Denver, I asked how the schools were. Oh, the schools were wonderful, I was reassured. Everyone was very happy with the schools, there were so many amazing options. Just one thing, I was cautioned several times. Stay away from DPS. Denver Public Schools. Well that's just great. A single family income, surviving on a resident's salary, and I was going to be expected to enroll my children in private school and pay for that too.

The city in Iowa we live in has no private schools. There is a Catholic high school, but half the children attending are not Catholic. There are no private schools to lure the best teachers away. There are no private schools for all the university professionals. Doctors', professors', and lawyers' children attend the same schools as the children of janitors, waitresses, and truck drivers. Without the option to abandon the public schools, families have invested in them, all resources go to them, and the outcome is amazing. The public school system is one of the best in the country.

I received a note from Roman's school today, and I'm attributing it to the caliber of the school. Roman has been enrolled with a guidance counselor. He is going to attend weekly small group sessions that focus on developing friendships. Some of the children in the group are new to the school. Each week, they talk about skills to make friends and good qualities of friends and friendships. They play group games. All with the goal of helping them to know other children better.

It seems like someone else (Roman's amazing teacher) noticed the same thing that has been causing me anxiety. Roman has not made any friends after nearly a month of school.

But instead of just letting it continue and allowing him to continue to be isolated and potentially struggle because of that, they have options.

I'm excited for the weekly sessions. I'm hoping it is the difference we need, me almost as much as Roman. Because he deserves everything I want for him.

Swing

Back before we had a house, back when the four of us were living in a 2 bedroom 1 bathroom 650 square foot apartment with the tiniest of patios, we would sit and talk about what we wanted our house to be like.

Not so much look like, because we were ready to settle for almost anything. We more imagined how it would feel like.

Now that we have our house, we are slowly turning it into that place we imagined so hard.

And I'm pretty sure our dream home included this...


To me, nothing says childhood like a tree swing.

Unless it is a tree swing holding two darling boys.



Keith and I made this one for Blaise's birthday. The biggest surprise is that the branch we attached it to holds not only Blaise and Roman, but Keith and me.

Adding that one thing as made the boys spend hours more time outside. Even if they are not swinging. Blaise carries a bucket around by his swing, picking up small sticks and nuts discarded by the squirrels that live in the tree. Roman sits on the porch and bird-watches.


This swing makes it feel like a family lives here.

State Fair

The Iowa State Fair, to grossly underestimate, is a big deal.

Everyone kept asking, not "if" we were going, but "when" we were going. When I'd say that I wasn't sure, we didn't know if we wanted to drive all the way to Des Moines, I would get the same crazy look from people that I did when I said I didn't like "Field of Dreams." Because that too, is a big deal here in Iowa.

Finally, they broke us.

We took the boys yesterday.

And to say it was crowded would also be a gross underestimation.


The scale took me by surprise. Hundreds of sheep, goats, horses, cows, pigs, and rabbits (which were definitely the favorite.) There were also elk, llamas, and ostriches. Massive pigs weighing 1100 pounds and tiny adult cows the same height as Blaise were also included.

We also saw the famous butter cow.


One thing the Iowa State Fair is famous for is its "Food on a Stick." Chicken, cake, cookies, pork, even salad, can all be bought and eaten off a stick. What the Iowa State Fair is not known for is its health food. Nearly everything is deep fried. I'll admit that we saw "deep fried Snickers bar," and there was no going back. Although we did forgo the whole pickles wrapped in cream-cheese spread pastrami.

And I've found a new love: Funnel cakes! I am currently looking for the recipe and I predict only bad things for my waistline once I find it.


The highlight of the day had to be the "Little Hands on the Farm" exhibit, a(finally!) free exhibit that lets small children understand a little more about farming. Walking in past sprawling pumpkin vines, they were both given aprons and a bucket.


We followed the path that lead to a garden where they planted "seeds" and "harvested" vegetables.


We then went to the grain silo where they picked up corn and soybeans (yes, the staples of Iowa.) The soy was later turned in to be made into fuel, earning them a ride on a tractor. The corn was "feed" to cows in exchange for dairy products. The boys also collected wool and eggs from displays lifelike enough to startle Blaise on several occasions.



That the very end, they go to the farmer's market where they sell their products. They were given a "dollar" to take to the store, where magically, everything cost a "dollar." The boys left, happy with their popsicle they had worked so hard to earn.

As we sat in some much coveted shade, Roman happily licking his rapidly melting popsicle, sagely said, "Wow, farming's hard work!"

I guess they made their point.

We decided to skip the rides this year. The boys were starting to get cranky from all the walking and too much sugar.

We made it back to the car just after the break-downs and tears hit. These were rapidly vanquished with "So, what did you like best?" It was a tie between giant animals and pumpkins, the snake house, and the little farm.


The long ride home was spent with Roman discussing what we will do next year at the Fair.

Second Grade

Backpack full, new clothes on (which he picked out last night himself), facial expressions alternating between excited and close to tears...


Roman started second grade at his new school.


I was lucky enough to be the one to walk him down the side walk and to the door where his class was lined up. (Keith had orientation for transferring to the local university, and I had to request a day off so someone could be with the boys. I chose today...just for this reason.)

I keep thinking it will get easier, this whole time flying by and my boys getting taller and first days of school. But it doesn't. I watched him, looking anxious but trying to look cool and unconcerned, follow his teacher into the school. The door shut behind the row of other four foot high, new clothes clad children, and I instantly became teary-eyed.

Why am I crying? I've done this before, both new schools and new daycares. I should be used to this. And there's still 3rd grade, and 4th grade, and 5th grade, and then middle school, and high school...and no, don't think about it, or I'll start crying more.

I was shaken out of my reverie by Blaise, who had crumpled onto the sidewalk and was in his own pile of tears. I scooped him up. "Why are you crying, darling? Do you miss Roman?"

"N-n-n-ooo! I-I-I want to g-go to school!"

I decided a nice long walk was the best way for the two of us to cope with our tears.

All day, between emptying the garage and balancing the check book, I peered out of windows, or stood on the front porch, looking at the school, wondering how Roman was doing.

Then, minutes before the final bell rang (which by the way, we can't hear at all at our house, even when we are outside) I stood on the front porch, waiting for him. Watching him run down the sidewalk, I couldn't help but grin.

"Tell me about school."

"It was fine."

Yep, that's about as much as I could get out of him. Of course, he doesn't remember what they talked about or the names of any other students. Typical conversation for first day of school at a new school (this is the third time we've done this.)

But he's excited to go back tomorrow.

It's going to be a great school year.

Meeting the Teachers

Roman starts 2nd grade on Thursday. 2nd grade!

I'm sure I should at some time get to a point where I stop putting exclamation points after my childrens' age or grade level. But today is not that time. I still don't understand how they grew up so quickly and how I suddenly find myself with a second grader.

This evening was the elementary's ice cream social. We strolled over to the school (very glad that we live right next door and didn't even have to think about trying to find parking among the overflowing parking lot and street sides.)

We got a little last minute paperwork done. Roman met his new teacher. She seems very nice. We are all a little excited about school starting (between the mourning of the end of summer. Seriously, not ready yet.)

Roman's school does something I haven't seen done before. Maybe it's normal here in the Midwest. The school is divided into Alpha, Beta, and Gamma. Alpha is 1st and 2nd grade. Beta is 3rd and 4th grade. Gamma is 5th and 6th grade. Each section (Alpha, Beta, Gamma) is divided in half. Alpha 1, Alpha 2, Beta 1, etc, etc. Alpha 1, consisting of half the children in 1st grade and half the children in 2nd grade is taught by one teacher. (I'm sure that I've done a terrible job explaining. That is what happens when you find out your DVR chose tonight to have a tantrum, your two year old threw a cup of milk at you, and you are seriously withdrawing from caffeine.)

Anyways.

This way, the children have the same teacher for two years. It minimizes changes, allows teachers to know their students better and address individual educational needs better.

Everyone we've met tells us how wonderful the elementary school is. It's a big reason we bought the house we did. Now, it's time to see if it lives up to its reputation.

Hair Cuts

Between residency starting, working on our home, and just plain having fun exploring our new surroundings, some things got moved to the bottom of the to-do list.

Meaning that Blaise and Roman have spent several weeks looking looking a little scruffy. Blaise especially started looking like a little sheep dog.

The Before

So with both boys' hair hanging in their eyes and combing hair in the morning become more of a "snarl-and-tangle" fest, we made our way to get haircuts.

Roman, in typical fashion, didn't say a word to his stylist, except, "Fine," when asked how he liked his hair cut.

Blaise sat in the chair by himself and didn't even whimper once (not even when the clippers came out.)

No more hair impairing their vision. No more, um, nearly mullets (hey, Blaise's hair just seems to grow a little faster in the back) or Elvis sideburns. And they both look pretty happy about their new dos.

The After