Our 3 year old has been amusing us lately with random Charlie Brown quotes. At first I thought he was learning different phrases at school but then it slowly became apparent that he has moved from "being" Little Bill to being Charlie Brown. From "good grief" to re-enacting Lucy tricking Charlie Brown into kicking the football, our house is filled with Peanuts these days. (Of course, I can't help but notice the irony of that considering that we're a peanut-free house due to Neil's severe peanut allergy.)
Tonight, as the evening was winding down - and, as a side note, today was amazingly calm compared to yesterday - Neil repeated one of his favorite, new phrases which is, "Will you say grace?" (From the Thanksgiving episode.) He has no idea what grace is and thinks saying grace is merely that: saying "grace". For him to hone in on that phrase is both amusing and troublesome since neither Chris nor I consider ourselves Christian and saying grace is, as far as I know, primarily a Christian ritual (although showing thankfulness for food is likely to be something that all or most religions include). I decided it was time that I try to explain to him what it meant to say grace.
Try is the operative word. I began by asking him if he'd like to know what saying "grace" meant and he did. I then proceeded to explain that saying grace was a way to be thankful for food and for sharing that food with loved ones. The big elephant in the room, or in my head rather, was how to explain who is being thanked. Although I'm not Christian, I respect all faiths and did not want to misrepresent Christianity in my explanation so I explained that Christians believe in a god and. . .that's when Neil interrupted and said, "I'm a god."
Ok, then.
So, I decided that he was still too young to understand these things, and I just reiterated to him that saying grace was a way to be thankful and that that was a good thing. As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't really matter what religion that sentiment is tied to - the act itself has its own validity regardless of its basis. Of course, now that I know a god in person, perhaps I could get him to explain the concept of grace to me. Good grief!
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Damage report
After ripping my dry contacts from my eyes, sitting down in a comfortable chair and putting my aching feet up, I'm struck by how beaten I am today. I don't know what it was about today but the energy level in the house was beyond ridiculous. It sent repeated shock waves throughout my body. I can't help but feel that these 3 little boys are whittling me down into their idea of their mom and that they could compete with air and water that erodes earth into mountains. Unfortunately, they've already made gravity pull my body down closer to the ground, carved crevices in my skin (stretch marks) and made me bulge forever at my waste line.
I'm a bit dramatic tonight. Did I mention my feet hurt?
So, tonight I ponder why it was so nuts today and I can't help but fear that this is a new trend, one that includes images like Neil spinning his baby brother Dylan around over and over and over again in our office chair, three babies squirming maddeningly in my lap, one baby climbing the table, one crying and the other squirting milk out of his mouth in fits of giggles. Writing about it makes it seem relatively innocent and carefree but that is only just a few flashes of memory from today. It was like that from sun up to sun down, non stop.
I guess the good thing is that Neil and Dylan seem to be doing much better now that they have their tubes in their ears. Of course, as Neil was screaming incredibly loudly and joyfully into a cup while I dried him off from his bath, I asked Chris if we could take his tubes out so that he'd quit being so insanely happy. Horrible thing for a mom to say even when completely joking. I do think he is feeling better so now I have to find the energy to keep up with the happy little guy.
As for Evan, he feels like dog doo since he has infections in both ears. I'm sure we'll end up getting tubes in his ears soon - probably before the month ends. At least we already know what to expect and we've paid our deductible for this year!
So, I'm unwinding now and letting the staticky twitch of my exhausted muscles ease and I can't help but laugh about my boys. They are adorable. They're happy and they know they're loved. They kick my butt but they're worth it even if I want to kick their behinds for grinding me down to a pile of dust at the end of each day. Being this tired and exhausted should only prove to me how hard I really work and how worth it they really are.
I'm a bit dramatic tonight. Did I mention my feet hurt?
So, tonight I ponder why it was so nuts today and I can't help but fear that this is a new trend, one that includes images like Neil spinning his baby brother Dylan around over and over and over again in our office chair, three babies squirming maddeningly in my lap, one baby climbing the table, one crying and the other squirting milk out of his mouth in fits of giggles. Writing about it makes it seem relatively innocent and carefree but that is only just a few flashes of memory from today. It was like that from sun up to sun down, non stop.
I guess the good thing is that Neil and Dylan seem to be doing much better now that they have their tubes in their ears. Of course, as Neil was screaming incredibly loudly and joyfully into a cup while I dried him off from his bath, I asked Chris if we could take his tubes out so that he'd quit being so insanely happy. Horrible thing for a mom to say even when completely joking. I do think he is feeling better so now I have to find the energy to keep up with the happy little guy.
As for Evan, he feels like dog doo since he has infections in both ears. I'm sure we'll end up getting tubes in his ears soon - probably before the month ends. At least we already know what to expect and we've paid our deductible for this year!
So, I'm unwinding now and letting the staticky twitch of my exhausted muscles ease and I can't help but laugh about my boys. They are adorable. They're happy and they know they're loved. They kick my butt but they're worth it even if I want to kick their behinds for grinding me down to a pile of dust at the end of each day. Being this tired and exhausted should only prove to me how hard I really work and how worth it they really are.
Bedlam
I don't even care if I misspelled it. In short, just as my laptop connects to the internet my "break" has ended. One child has an ear infection - the one who doesn't have tubes yet but soon will. Dylan, my little he-man, has interrupted not only Neil's only nap today but has done the same for Evan. Gleefully, he runs away from me and barges into their rooms. He just did it to Evan and I decided it was smarter for me to write this post than go in there and kick Dylan's booty (figuratively speaking, of course).
Ok. Calmer now. I must return to my sergeant duty once again and get my little troops back in line.
Is it 5:00 yet?
Ok. Calmer now. I must return to my sergeant duty once again and get my little troops back in line.
Is it 5:00 yet?
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Bingo!
Over the last few days, old games of mine and Chris' have been pulled from the depths of what we refer to as the "special toy closet". First it was Twister then Scrabble and, finally, Bingo. How could Chris and I possibly have the time to play these games? We're not. Our three year old is and he loves it.
A sane person probably wouldn't even consider getting any of these games out of their closet so that their 3 year old could play it. I hadn't thought of it before simply because it didn't even cross my mind that he'd be capable of playing any of them but I had an "aha" moment that has led to some fantastic entertainment for him and us as well.
The first inspiration came with Twister. I'm going to assume anyone who reads this is familiar with the game. What could easily be seen as a semi-naughty game involving the entanglement of limbs upon the colorful mat evolved into a completely benign and innocent way for Neil to enjoy jumping around on the different colored circles. Plus, the card that you spin to find out which hand or foot, right or left, goes on which colored circle provides a great opportunity to work on learning left from right. Aha! Not only did Neil enjoy jumping around on the mat, Evan and Dylan seemed to enjoy all the big, pretty colors as they scooted around on it, slapping their little hands on the circles. Finally, it gave Neil great pleasure to "tell" me where to put my hands and feet on the mat and watch me actually do it at his direction - a rare moment for him that sent him into a fit of giggles. (Of course, the fact that I looked like a goof ball doing it had nothing to do with it.)
Once my mind had been rewired to rethink uses of old board games, I began looking at the other games we had. That's when I stumbled on Scrabble. As I have mentioned in previous posts, Neil loves letters and is beginning to read. Scrabble was perfect for that. Although we didn't follow the rules at all, he thoroughly enjoyed creating words with the letters. Unfortunately, since the pieces are small, Scrabble had to be played away from baby brothers.
As much as he enjoyed Twister and Scrabble, the real breakthrough came with Bingo. As I peered into the semi-darkness of the special toy closet, my eyes found Chris' old Bingo game that he got in the 70s. Orange and faded, the box was falling apart and I noticed that Chris' name was written in permanent marker on it. I decided it was time this game be played again. No point in letting it sit there and collect dust.
Unlike the other games we'd played thus far, Neil actually learned how to play Bingo. We both had our cards and he was the announcer. I don't know what current Bingo games come with but Chris' comes with a little mechanism which you turn and a Bingo chip slides out. Neil absolutely loved this thing which is amusingly the colors of orange and yellow - so 70s. We played Bingo off and on all day today and he never tired of reading off the letter and number on the chip, scanning his and my cards and placing the little circle over the numbers when they were there. He even beat me on his first try.
I am amused that these games are so entertaining for him and that they even provide good opportunities for him to strengthen his knowledge of colors, letters and numbers. What else could a parent ask for? I mean, it was free, he loves it and he's learning. I think that all lines up to one successful "Bingo!"
A sane person probably wouldn't even consider getting any of these games out of their closet so that their 3 year old could play it. I hadn't thought of it before simply because it didn't even cross my mind that he'd be capable of playing any of them but I had an "aha" moment that has led to some fantastic entertainment for him and us as well.
The first inspiration came with Twister. I'm going to assume anyone who reads this is familiar with the game. What could easily be seen as a semi-naughty game involving the entanglement of limbs upon the colorful mat evolved into a completely benign and innocent way for Neil to enjoy jumping around on the different colored circles. Plus, the card that you spin to find out which hand or foot, right or left, goes on which colored circle provides a great opportunity to work on learning left from right. Aha! Not only did Neil enjoy jumping around on the mat, Evan and Dylan seemed to enjoy all the big, pretty colors as they scooted around on it, slapping their little hands on the circles. Finally, it gave Neil great pleasure to "tell" me where to put my hands and feet on the mat and watch me actually do it at his direction - a rare moment for him that sent him into a fit of giggles. (Of course, the fact that I looked like a goof ball doing it had nothing to do with it.)
Once my mind had been rewired to rethink uses of old board games, I began looking at the other games we had. That's when I stumbled on Scrabble. As I have mentioned in previous posts, Neil loves letters and is beginning to read. Scrabble was perfect for that. Although we didn't follow the rules at all, he thoroughly enjoyed creating words with the letters. Unfortunately, since the pieces are small, Scrabble had to be played away from baby brothers.
As much as he enjoyed Twister and Scrabble, the real breakthrough came with Bingo. As I peered into the semi-darkness of the special toy closet, my eyes found Chris' old Bingo game that he got in the 70s. Orange and faded, the box was falling apart and I noticed that Chris' name was written in permanent marker on it. I decided it was time this game be played again. No point in letting it sit there and collect dust.
Unlike the other games we'd played thus far, Neil actually learned how to play Bingo. We both had our cards and he was the announcer. I don't know what current Bingo games come with but Chris' comes with a little mechanism which you turn and a Bingo chip slides out. Neil absolutely loved this thing which is amusingly the colors of orange and yellow - so 70s. We played Bingo off and on all day today and he never tired of reading off the letter and number on the chip, scanning his and my cards and placing the little circle over the numbers when they were there. He even beat me on his first try.
I am amused that these games are so entertaining for him and that they even provide good opportunities for him to strengthen his knowledge of colors, letters and numbers. What else could a parent ask for? I mean, it was free, he loves it and he's learning. I think that all lines up to one successful "Bingo!"
Friday, February 22, 2008
Happy to see you
You wouldn't believe me if I told you that my children are bright and amazing. Moms always lie about such things. Once you have a child, you understand this because watching a little person progress from being a crying, sticky, often stinky, blob to a complex human with a new and interesting perspective on the life you share with them is truly an awakening experience for anyone involved in the raising of a child. Seriously, life is beautiful and rich and it is no more evident than when your own flesh in blood with whom you will share your life and love shows you who they are and gives hints as to what really makes them tick.
So, rather than saying that my children are amazing, I'll share what a nurse told me about my oldest the other day. Of course, you must believe this unidentified nurse and every detail I provide because I'm truly unbiased and a completely objective party in this story. I'm not sarcastic either.
Seriously. Ok, well....
Anyway, the other day two of my darlings had to have tubes put in their ears due to chronic, recurrent ear infections. Although I knew the procedure was relatively simple and done repeatedly all over the world on tons of children, I wasn't completely excited about having two of my babies under anesthesia and under the knife. The procedure seemed unavoidable and a good solution for the never ending discomfort the boys were experiencing so we agreed to have it done in order to help the boys out.
Other than the concerns regarding my children both being under anesthesia at nearly the same time (within 15 minutes of each other), I was concerned about my oldest reigning holy terror on the poor unsuspecting, innocent physicians and staff of the hospital. Not to mention that I was hoping that my father-in-law wouldn't witness a ridiculous scene of crazy child, crazy mama. It didn't help that the information provided to me by the surgeon warned of the side effects of coming off of anesthesia being unusually cranky behavior. I could only imagine what unusual cranky behavior would look like in my children. They seem to have it down quite well enough without any extra help.
Prior to the nurses wheeling the boys off for the procedure, we were visited by the anesthesiologist, a quite amusing chap with a British accent who quoted Monty Python to us as he examined the boys. He quickly determined that Dylan (our 16 month old) was perfectly calm and needed no help with relaxation. Conversely, and as feared, was able to see that Neil would need some good drugs to behave. Neil wasn't behaving horribly but he made it very clear that he did not want "them" to put the hospital bands on him nor did he want the oxygen monitor taped to him either. My anxiety level began to mount as I worried about what was to come.
Then entered the "goofy juice" as the sedative was called. The very skilled nurse quickly administered the sedative before he realized what was happening. As we watched over the next few minutes, Neil slowly began to relax and became a silly, little dude. The funniest moment was when he was playing the "give me 5" game with his daddy. (In Chris' version that he plays with the boys he says: give me 5, on the side, in the hole, you're too slow.) After Neil had managed to maneuver enough to give his daddy 5, he slowly moved his hand, with his index finger and thumb touching in the shape of an "o", toward his face while saying, "toooooo slowwwww". It was so cute it almost made me cry.
So, Dylan went into surgery first then Neil. Dylan did fabulously. He was calm from the beginning until the end. He looked adorable in his Looney Tunes cartoon hospital gown as he gripped his tiny little duck (which we washed the day before the surgery). Dylan recovered amazingly without a fuss and was his usual busy self once he got home.
As I sat and rocked the slowly awakening Dylan, a nurse wheeled Neil back into the recovery room and announced to us that Neil was a prodigy. Here I was worried that he would be a crazy tyrant and he turned out to be a prodigy. She began to tell us how he said his ABCs and informed them that "apple" started with an "a" (after being offered apple juice). I thanked her graciously and tried not to sound like I wasn't surprised that he was saying those things.
There is a fine line between expressing how you're proud of your child's abilities and sounding like you're bragging. It's just simply a fact that Neil likes to learn and he's incredibly enthusiastic about it and always has been. Anyway, Neil has been saying his ABCs (all of it) since he was 18 months old, he has been talking forever it seems, and he started reading when he was 3. My mother-in-law, who is a retired 1st grade teacher, told me that Neil reads better than some of her 1st graders did. Obviously, I'm pleased that he's doing well but, again, I understand that all kids are special as are my other two dudes and other children I know. They're all special in their own ways.
Anyway, the next day I spoke again with the nurse and she told me how she woke up before work that day and couldn't stop thinking about how special Neil was. She said, "we see children all day long, every day but he was special. There was something special about Neil." Of course, I hated to hear this. . . not. She then told me how he was not only smart but very pleasant (this is where I asked her to repeat herself since I wasn't sure I heard her right). She told me how Neil turned to one of the nurses and said, "What is your name?" to which the nurse answered, "Carrie." Neil replied in a stutter, "C..c..c..carrie. Carrie starts with a "C". It's nice to see you, Carrie."
Oh my. He's even good with the ladies! I couldn't help but recall another amusing incident where his pick up line was, "What's your favorite letter?" which he directed toward a cute, older girl. He was disappointed that she didn't answer and walked away which I didn't find surprising since her mouth-breathing, blank expression didn't give me the confidence that she even knew her letters in the first place. (Totally tacky of me to say but it's easier to say than to face the fact that she was totally unimpressed with my child.)
So, my little prodigy has recovered nicely from his surgery as has little Dylan and I am relieved that they both did so well. Perhaps next time I have concerns regarding Neil's behavior in public, I'll remember this time or I'll simply go and get me some goofy juice.
So, rather than saying that my children are amazing, I'll share what a nurse told me about my oldest the other day. Of course, you must believe this unidentified nurse and every detail I provide because I'm truly unbiased and a completely objective party in this story. I'm not sarcastic either.
Seriously. Ok, well....
Anyway, the other day two of my darlings had to have tubes put in their ears due to chronic, recurrent ear infections. Although I knew the procedure was relatively simple and done repeatedly all over the world on tons of children, I wasn't completely excited about having two of my babies under anesthesia and under the knife. The procedure seemed unavoidable and a good solution for the never ending discomfort the boys were experiencing so we agreed to have it done in order to help the boys out.
Other than the concerns regarding my children both being under anesthesia at nearly the same time (within 15 minutes of each other), I was concerned about my oldest reigning holy terror on the poor unsuspecting, innocent physicians and staff of the hospital. Not to mention that I was hoping that my father-in-law wouldn't witness a ridiculous scene of crazy child, crazy mama. It didn't help that the information provided to me by the surgeon warned of the side effects of coming off of anesthesia being unusually cranky behavior. I could only imagine what unusual cranky behavior would look like in my children. They seem to have it down quite well enough without any extra help.
Prior to the nurses wheeling the boys off for the procedure, we were visited by the anesthesiologist, a quite amusing chap with a British accent who quoted Monty Python to us as he examined the boys. He quickly determined that Dylan (our 16 month old) was perfectly calm and needed no help with relaxation. Conversely, and as feared, was able to see that Neil would need some good drugs to behave. Neil wasn't behaving horribly but he made it very clear that he did not want "them" to put the hospital bands on him nor did he want the oxygen monitor taped to him either. My anxiety level began to mount as I worried about what was to come.
Then entered the "goofy juice" as the sedative was called. The very skilled nurse quickly administered the sedative before he realized what was happening. As we watched over the next few minutes, Neil slowly began to relax and became a silly, little dude. The funniest moment was when he was playing the "give me 5" game with his daddy. (In Chris' version that he plays with the boys he says: give me 5, on the side, in the hole, you're too slow.) After Neil had managed to maneuver enough to give his daddy 5, he slowly moved his hand, with his index finger and thumb touching in the shape of an "o", toward his face while saying, "toooooo slowwwww". It was so cute it almost made me cry.
So, Dylan went into surgery first then Neil. Dylan did fabulously. He was calm from the beginning until the end. He looked adorable in his Looney Tunes cartoon hospital gown as he gripped his tiny little duck (which we washed the day before the surgery). Dylan recovered amazingly without a fuss and was his usual busy self once he got home.
As I sat and rocked the slowly awakening Dylan, a nurse wheeled Neil back into the recovery room and announced to us that Neil was a prodigy. Here I was worried that he would be a crazy tyrant and he turned out to be a prodigy. She began to tell us how he said his ABCs and informed them that "apple" started with an "a" (after being offered apple juice). I thanked her graciously and tried not to sound like I wasn't surprised that he was saying those things.
There is a fine line between expressing how you're proud of your child's abilities and sounding like you're bragging. It's just simply a fact that Neil likes to learn and he's incredibly enthusiastic about it and always has been. Anyway, Neil has been saying his ABCs (all of it) since he was 18 months old, he has been talking forever it seems, and he started reading when he was 3. My mother-in-law, who is a retired 1st grade teacher, told me that Neil reads better than some of her 1st graders did. Obviously, I'm pleased that he's doing well but, again, I understand that all kids are special as are my other two dudes and other children I know. They're all special in their own ways.
Anyway, the next day I spoke again with the nurse and she told me how she woke up before work that day and couldn't stop thinking about how special Neil was. She said, "we see children all day long, every day but he was special. There was something special about Neil." Of course, I hated to hear this. . . not. She then told me how he was not only smart but very pleasant (this is where I asked her to repeat herself since I wasn't sure I heard her right). She told me how Neil turned to one of the nurses and said, "What is your name?" to which the nurse answered, "Carrie." Neil replied in a stutter, "C..c..c..carrie. Carrie starts with a "C". It's nice to see you, Carrie."
Oh my. He's even good with the ladies! I couldn't help but recall another amusing incident where his pick up line was, "What's your favorite letter?" which he directed toward a cute, older girl. He was disappointed that she didn't answer and walked away which I didn't find surprising since her mouth-breathing, blank expression didn't give me the confidence that she even knew her letters in the first place. (Totally tacky of me to say but it's easier to say than to face the fact that she was totally unimpressed with my child.)
So, my little prodigy has recovered nicely from his surgery as has little Dylan and I am relieved that they both did so well. Perhaps next time I have concerns regarding Neil's behavior in public, I'll remember this time or I'll simply go and get me some goofy juice.
Warmth
As the days become longer and sunset later, I have had the opportunity to escape from the confines of our home when my husband returns home from his life beyond these walls. I simply walk out the front door and go on a walk. I don't go very far - I merely circle a small area around our neighborhood but to see the sky, albeit an often cloudy one, and to hear less noise than what I'd heard throughout the day is refreshing and allows me to feel I have escaped momentarily.
It's amazing how restorative it is for me to walk away for the simple purpose of being alone even if it's only for 20-30 minutes. Yesterday, it was cold and misty when I ventured forth into the world beyond and, although I found myself chilled and less than comfortable, I was happy to be away for just a little while. As I listened to my breath come in and out as I walked briskly along and felt the chill upon my skin, I allowed my senses to accept the new, pleasant sensations and let my tense muscles relax. It was nice to just be and to not be needed if even for a second.
It's amusing to write about these moments now while the chaos surrounds me and finds me at every turn. As I write, Dylan is weaving his way through my legs (I'm typing while standing because sitting with a computer is out of the question), Evan is babbling at my feet and bumping into me and Charlie Brown's Thanksgiving DVD is playing in the background (Neil is crazy about Charlie Brown and could care less if the show is not relevant in the middle of February.) Although I can't exactly relax in this atmosphere and must constantly reel in my frustrations and aggravations, the fact that I am experiencing some moments of sanity may help me find some peace amid the crazy chaos or, at the very least, provide some brief calm to my normally hectic days.
Last night after I returned from the cold, I reentered our noise-filled house and was greeted by my three little boys and my handsome husband. They were happy I had returned and, although I was tired, I was happy to be back. As I warmed up from being out in the cold, I found myself surrounded by all three of my little boys as I sat in the floor: one behind me patting my back, one hugging me in the front and the oldest trying to style my messy hair. It was nice to be welcomed back and I'm glad I was at peace enough to cherish it.
It's amazing how restorative it is for me to walk away for the simple purpose of being alone even if it's only for 20-30 minutes. Yesterday, it was cold and misty when I ventured forth into the world beyond and, although I found myself chilled and less than comfortable, I was happy to be away for just a little while. As I listened to my breath come in and out as I walked briskly along and felt the chill upon my skin, I allowed my senses to accept the new, pleasant sensations and let my tense muscles relax. It was nice to just be and to not be needed if even for a second.
It's amusing to write about these moments now while the chaos surrounds me and finds me at every turn. As I write, Dylan is weaving his way through my legs (I'm typing while standing because sitting with a computer is out of the question), Evan is babbling at my feet and bumping into me and Charlie Brown's Thanksgiving DVD is playing in the background (Neil is crazy about Charlie Brown and could care less if the show is not relevant in the middle of February.) Although I can't exactly relax in this atmosphere and must constantly reel in my frustrations and aggravations, the fact that I am experiencing some moments of sanity may help me find some peace amid the crazy chaos or, at the very least, provide some brief calm to my normally hectic days.
Last night after I returned from the cold, I reentered our noise-filled house and was greeted by my three little boys and my handsome husband. They were happy I had returned and, although I was tired, I was happy to be back. As I warmed up from being out in the cold, I found myself surrounded by all three of my little boys as I sat in the floor: one behind me patting my back, one hugging me in the front and the oldest trying to style my messy hair. It was nice to be welcomed back and I'm glad I was at peace enough to cherish it.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Constipated
One of my little darlings has been clogged and clogged and clogged and whew. We seem to have figured out a way to relieve his unpleasant condition, and we now see how much he had been affected by it in ways we hadn't previously realized. Evan has been slow to walk - he just turned 16 months old but he was 6 weeks premature. While his twin would run past him, Evan would catch up with Dylan via his speedy, hauling crawl. He wasn't slowed down but he liked to stay close to the ground. Just a few days after his symptoms were relieved, he seems more eager to be upright and is attempting to walk a lot more. An interesting development that I had not foreseen.
As I pondered my son's constipation, I realized that I was sort of suffering from a mental constipation. I've been plugged up with lots of emotional garbage for the last few weeks and I was unable to express any of it because our computer has been giving us a ton of trouble and because I wasn't sure if it would be prudent to write about some personal, family business I've been involved in. Our computer situation is improving yet I haven't decided how or whether I should discuss the emotional ramifications of a family situation. So, I guess you could say I'm still a bit clogged. Hopefully, I'll find a solution to this dilemma soon enough or the emotions will pass on their own so that I don't feel the need to air them publically. For now, I will probably be a little hampered until I can stand again on my own two feet.
As I pondered my son's constipation, I realized that I was sort of suffering from a mental constipation. I've been plugged up with lots of emotional garbage for the last few weeks and I was unable to express any of it because our computer has been giving us a ton of trouble and because I wasn't sure if it would be prudent to write about some personal, family business I've been involved in. Our computer situation is improving yet I haven't decided how or whether I should discuss the emotional ramifications of a family situation. So, I guess you could say I'm still a bit clogged. Hopefully, I'll find a solution to this dilemma soon enough or the emotions will pass on their own so that I don't feel the need to air them publically. For now, I will probably be a little hampered until I can stand again on my own two feet.
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