My Thoughtful Whistle-Blower

I have to share a snippet of what our life is like with our Henry.

This morning, at the Fun Zone at our local Y, Henry was able to get a sucker (just a Dum Dum) out of the cauldron for being a well-behaved boy. He painstakingly (seriously) chose the cotton candy flavor. Then, just before we left, he said, "I am going to save this for Nora."

Everybody's heart melted. Twice. Then, I watched him struggle during the car ride (internally and externally) about it because he didn't realize how long it would be until she got home (and how long he would have to stare at it/smell it/think about it).

I explained to him that he is the sweetest boy for thinking of his sister and wanting to save that for her. I also mentioned that he needn't do that: that sucker was intended for him as a reward for his good behavior. I encouraged him to eat it himself as we have other suckers at home if the topic arose later.

I watched (in the rear-view) as he began to eat it. Then, I watched as he wilted, feeling completely guilty and disappointed in himself for not saving it for his sister. I explained to him that he should not feel so sad since that sucker really was intended for him—it isn't as if he did something wrong.

Still, he struggled. He still continues to struggle with his choice. I have a feeling he will blow the whistle on himself when Nora gets off the bus, even. I will likely see her get upset at him, and I will have to explain to her what a sweet brother he actually is (even though he's going to ruin it for himself by bothering to share his good, yet failed, intentions).

What's interesting about all of this: he never does it for Everett. (Not that Everett even cares.) I also think it is possible that he is doing it just to please his sister—who, by the way, has been known to coerce Henry into letting her eat his desserts (and, when I catch this happening, I stop it—FYI).

I have no idea how to even handle it. I understand the weight of the pressure he put on himself earlier. I just can't get him to realize that he's overdoing it. Maybe that'll just come with age. I don't know.

I love that he wants to be so thoughtful and loving like that, but . . . dang. Sometimes his heart is too big.

Death!? Not Today!

The kids and I were having a nice, calm morning in my bed—taking turns telling jokes. Then, we heard what sounded like furniture falling down stairs (only, we don't have stairs) coming down our hallway toward my bedroom. The only reason I didn't go and hide under the bed with the rest of the kids is because as the noise reached my room, I heard our dog yelp. He came into the room, seemingly unharmed but looking shamed.

I ran down the hall to see what the heck he must've been stuck to in the hallway and saw nothing. Then, I heard the sound again. It was coming from Ev's room. I looked under the crib to see our cat with completely black eyes. Also, there was a paper Olive Garden bag that Willis had brought home from work last night with him. It all started to come together.

After I let the kids give the cat some space, he finally came out from under the crib . . . with the paper bag still attached. He's free and OK, now, but I really wish I had a surveillance camera in the hallway to capture what the heck went down out there.

We kind-of all thought we were going to die for a minute. But, no. Hilarity.

Keep Truckin'

Clearly, I haven't taken much time to blog over the past year. There's been a lot happening, and it just hasn't been a priority. There was a time I would have felt sad about that, but I guess I have a better-placed priority list, now (since there's an absence of guilt).

What's been going on? Just a few things.

• I became the web administrator for our town.
• I helped the town rebuild their website.
• My kids are still small enough to play in the water in the bathroom and make an extraordinary mess every day—and dump out all the shampoo. (I really thought we were past that, but I was mistaken.)
• Nora started Kindergarten and became an adult, basically. I'm still absorbing that.
• About 20% of my day involves answering questions about where specific toys are. Only about 1% of the time do I actually know the answer. Maybe less than that.
• Everett went through a long and (somewhat still) messy potty efficiency process, but we're out of diapers! Whee!
• Willi has been taxed (emotionally/physically) hard at work, and he's there a lot.
• The roof fell in at his work during a blizzard (interstate-closed type of stuff and in Gary, Indiana, where they barely plow the roads on a good day) and caused MAJOR damage. He's lost some staff members while he's been there (various reasons). They were already understaffed. His heart hurts a lot day to day, and I can see it in his face.
• Oh, yeah. I work. I still have my job. So, that.
• We got buried in snow, so I spent a good portion of the winter shoveling the driveway. Then, we scored a free snow blower before the latest snow, which was SWEET.
• Laundry. Dishes. Tripping on toys. Tripping on the dog. Tripping on kids. Trying to clean up the house occasionally. Fixing stuff that breaks (all the stuff breaks). Trying to get Henry to stop telling me he's starving by throwing food at him constantly.
• Actually trying to have real (instead of via social media which was a large portion of my interactions with people while my kids were infants), social, interpersonal relationships/interactions.
• I try to keep moving (which involves a membership at the Y) which serves many purposes: I get a boost of energy, I get a break, it gets my kids out of the house during the winter, and we get discounts on swim lessons (also happening).
• Strep. Strep has been happening. There has been less barf-o-rama this year, though, which has been welcomed—well, at least with the kids. The dog did have a serious barf-o-rama incident on New Year's Eve when he ate an ENTIRE plate of cookies with LOTS of chocolate. That, by far, was probably the grossest thing I've cleaned up to date, and that is actually saying something.
• Oh, and we're trying to be decent parents. So, that. Not sure if that's working yet.

So . . . there's an update.

One day, we'll spend Saturday mornings like these drinking coffee, missing our children, and thinking about going cross country skiing or snow-shoeing or just a walk down to the lake to see how different it looks today. Or, going out to eat somewhere (cool/different). Or doing whatever we want . . . like visiting the children we're missing. Or nothing.

It's not that right now is devoid of enjoyment, but it's definitely not a simple time right now—especially not for Willis. If it isn't a simple time for him, it isn't for me, either. In the meantime, we do what we can, the best we can. Just keep on . . . keep truckin'. Good stuff.