A Weekend Last Fall: Lincoln Memorial

It was unseasonably warm that Saturday. We drove the long way to the zoo and looked at a DC neighborhood we thought might be affordable and safe (but it really is not either one).
We ate at a Burger King, in the booth made into a car.
We stopped at the Lincoln Memorial on the way home. It went from grey and windy to a sudden downpour. Will and I waited while you ran with Andrew for the car. We all got absolutely soaked. Will and I followed Andrew's lead on the ride-home outfit and I just hoped we didn't get stopped. We picked up Katie on the way out of town.

I think the boys already look older now than they did in these photos.

I am so glad we didn't forget our camera that day.

Working From Home

This was taken the day Will and I came home from the hospital last month. Brigham kicked us out of the house within 5 minutes of the taking of this photo. He actually went outside and started the car. I guess my dreams of Brigham working from home are dead.

Conversations with Will

Will has learned a new word. He looked me straight in the eye with his huge round blues in his little narrow face and said, "Tube," clutching at the tube coming from his nose. Then, "Nose." This was shortly followed by, "Dadda," and rounded off with "In." He may have been speaking the way I communicated as a missionary in Chile, but he got his point across. Yes, Will, Daddy jams a tube up your nose and down your throat.

Oh, when I got in his face to take this photo this morning he looked at me and said, "cheese!"

Andrew is still sick and Will is coughing, too, but they are on the mend and I think I will take them to the park anyway. 60 degrees can only be salubrious.

1980

Andrew could correctly identify his father but had to be informed that the blonde toddler was Uncle Josh. I think Brigham and Josh look they are each modeling for a different side of the family, Brig for the Cannons and Josh for the Barneys. I just want to put Josh in leiderhosen and be done with it!

Thanks, Sarah, for sending me this photo!

In January, for the price of a small piece of furniture, Brig took Andrew to Monstor Jam at the Verizon Center.
Andrew wanted to drive there in the Suburban, a vehicle worthy of its own post. We convinced him that it was too big to park, a reason that appealed to Andrew.
Monstor Jam was a nice opportunity for Brig and Andrew to spend some father-son time together,
to introduce Andrew to new Monstor Truck characters with less offensive names (like Superman, as opposed to Gravedigger, pictured at top),
and lessen Andrew's obsession wih the trucks by scaring him just a little bit.
As a side note, Andrew's haircut was perfect for the occassion.

"An economic crisis is a terrible thing to waste."

Who do you think said the above quote? Would you believe President Obama's chief of staff? I think it is very telling.

Why labor over stating anything more when Sowell has said it so beautifully for me.

The big story last week was the incredible Congressional rush to pass a bill that was more than a thousand pages long in just two days— after which it sat on the President's desk for three days while the Obamas were away on a holiday.


There is the same complete inconsistency in the bill itself. Despite the urgency in President Obama's rhetoric, as well as in Congress' haste in passing a bill which few— if any— members had time to read, much less consider, most of the actual spending will take place next year, at the earliest.


Not even the most Alice-in-Wonderland actions will arouse the suspicions of those who have what William James once called "the will to believe."


Nowhere was that will to believe greater than in the election of Barack Obama to be President of the United States, not on the basis of any actual accomplishment, but as the repository of hopes and symbolism. His supporters among the voters and in the media are not going to stop believing now.


It will take a lot more than blatant inconsistency for the faithful to lose faith. It may take catastrophe— and there may well be catastrophe.

For some, even catastrophe under Obama can be blamed on George Bush. After all, Franklin D. Roosevelt was elected to an unprecedented third term in 1940, after two terms in which the unemployment rate never fell below 10 percent and was above 20 percent for 21 consecutive months.


FDR also inspired the will to believe— and he also had Herbert Hoover on whom to blame all the country's troubles.


It may seem strange, to those who never lived through those times, that someone could be President of the United States for eight straight years and nevertheless escape responsibility for mass unemployment by blaming his long-departed predecessor. But we may yet see a re-run of that scenario in our own time.


Nothing in the amateurish way the current administration has begun suggests that they have mastered even the mechanics of governing, much less the complexities of the huge national problems looming ahead, at home and abroad.


The multiple Cabinet nominees withdrawing before their nomination can come to a vote in the Senate are just one example of this amateurism.


Another example was the Secretary of the Treasury holding a much heralded unveiling of his recovery plan, only to publicly embarrass himself and the administration when his speech made painfully clear that there is no plan, but only pious hopes. The plunge in the stock market after his speech suggests how much confidence he inspired.


There is far more to fear from this administration than its amateurism in governing. The urgency with which it has rushed through a monumental spending bill, whose actual spending will not be completed even after 2010, ought to set off alarm bells among those who are not in thrall to the euphoria of Obama's presidency.


The urgency was real, even if the reason given was phony. President Obama's chief of staff, Rahm Emanuel, let slip a valuable clue when he said that a crisis should not go to waste, that a crisis is an opportunity to do things that you could not do otherwise.


Think about the utter cynicism of that. During a crisis, a panicked public will let you get away with things you couldn't get away with otherwise.


A corollary of that is that you had better act quickly while the crisis is at hand, without Congressional hearings or public debates about what you are doing. Above all, you must act before the economy begins to recover on its own.

The party line is that the market has failed so disastrously that only the government can save us. It is proclaimed in Washington and echoed in the media.

The last thing the administration can risk is delay that could allow the market to begin recovering on its own. That would undermine, if not destroy, a golden opportunity to restructure the American economy in ways that would allow politicians to micro-manage other sectors of the economy the way they have micro-managed the housing market into disaster.

Night Sledding (Jan 27)

On the occassion of the first snowfall of the season, I attempted to take the kids sledding. It took too long getting out the door and Will fell asleep in the car, so we aborted the trip.
We went again post-nap pre-dinner. When we arrived at the spot recommended by a friend, I realized that I had been there once before, almost two years ago. I was in Fairfax, getting bar application things done. I was pregnant with Will and Andrew was just an 18 month old baby. It was a hot day and the large brick building overlooking our sledding spot had been a construction zone of endless fascination to Andrew. It was strange to be back there on such a different day, such a different point in my life, even if only two years separated the two me's.
Will was not very excited about sledding. He tolerated it at best, but mainly he hated it. Andrew was in heaven. So was I.
We sledded next to a patch of kids. I had the impression it was a group of family friends or neighbors. We parallel sledded, but that was enough to make Andrew feel included and excited. He chose the sledding spot. When we got home, I asked Andrew what his favorite part about sledding had been.

"The kids," he replied, even though we had not spoken to a single one.

Licking a razorblade does not constitute an emergency

We were making Valentines card tonight when Andrew disappeared to brush his teeth (he flosses now, too, thanks to a preschool lesson). I helped him get the bubblegum toothpaste on the brush and returned to Will. 20 minutes after Andrew returned he decided to show me his tongue. Covered in blood.
"What happened?"

"I licked a razor."

"Why, Andrew? When? WHere was the razor?"

"I don't know, honey. It had bubblegum on it." (toothpaste)

So, if your child licks a razor blade, do the following:

1) Ice wrapped in a napkin or cloth
2) Pressure
3) TV to keep him applying that ice forcefully
4) Expect it to bleed a lot but it won't hurt
5) Don't worry, in 30 minutes he will be playing in boxes with his brother
and providing neigh neigh rides as well. Then he will take a bath with goggles on.

At the Horse Show, Frying Pan Park Jan 2009

It was such a cold and grey day, but there was something lovely (to plagiarize) about it.
We came because Will loves loves loves "Neigh-Neighs!" They were holding a Jumper Horse show, but it was sort of boring. (The smallest jumps were earliest, and we were there very early.)
Andrew kept refusing to wear his coat. He took it off at every opportunity, even though he was almost crying from cold. He could not love us dear so much loved he not showing off his Adidas track suit more. Will slept the whole way home.

Brigham came home and told me that John Updike had died. It felt strange to think that he was no longer a part of the world that he described so well. He wrote a book of poems called "A Child's Calendar," one poem per month. When I learned of its existence I bought it sight unseen. I have not regretted it. Here is my favorite.

November

The stripped and shapely
Maple grieves
The loss of her
Departed leaves.

The ground is hard,
As hard as stone.
The year is old,
The birds are flown.

And yet the world,
Nevertheless,
Displays a certain
Loveliness--

The beauty of
The bone. Tall God
Must see our souls
This way, and nod.

Give thanks: we do,
Each in his place
Around the table
During grace.

December 12, Puddle Jumping

Will was desperate to wear rain boots like Andrew. Luckily, they were where I could find them.
Will wanted to run through, and initially was thrilled. When I caught a photo of him, though, it was after he touched the water with his hand. He didn't like that much for some reason.


I could barely drag Andrew back inside. December in Virginia.

Falling Asleep in 5 Minutes

These were taken as I put on makeup for church last Sunday. Every time I turned around, I saw that they were advancing down the road of the balm of hurt minds. I have a similar series from over the summer of Brigham holding Will, only Brigham is the only one to fall asleep. By a pool. With concrete all around.

Cousins

Andrew had his first soccer practice this afternoon. We arrived a bit late, which contributed to his tendency to act (and I mean that in the theatrical sense) shy, which was unfortunate. He got excited when they kicked goals. (The coach, who is wonderful and British, had them raise their hands in the air and shout "Goal!" when they made one.) Andrew kept careful track of his goals and would come to me for a high-five and to provide me with an update on his points scored. Still, he was very reluctant to participate in most of the other activities, once coming over to me and demanding cookies(??). I wondered whether I should continue with the program.
On the way home, Andrew called to me from his carseat. "Mom, do you have your phone with you?" That is an exact quote, and I have to record it bc I never expected to hear that question from a three year old. "I want to use it to call Sam and tell him about my soccer team."

So he did. He had a long conversation with Luke and with Sam. Missy said that she heard Luke's end, which consisted of, "That's cool. Wow. Awesome." She wondered what they were talking about.


This is only the beginning of lots of conversations back and forth reporting special news. It won't be long till Missy and I won't be privy to the contents thereof.

There is something really special about cousins. Somehow they just know. And I love it.

Hospital Moments

Our family put all the meaning back into the threat, "If you don't eat, I am going to shove that food down your throat!" last week. Will is now fed 800 calories a night through a nasal-gastro tube and a home-care food pump.
It's the happiest tube-fed baby in the world! He is thrilled that there is no more of that hard chewing and bothersome swallowing. (Brigham sometimes refers to him simply as 'Crazy.')
In the Child Life room. I had never seen bubbles before in my entire life. They are wonderful!
The nurse told us that she had never seen a child crawl in and out of the bottom of his crib like Will did, for an hour at a time.
This is him after waking up from his endoscopy (which revealed nothing amiss). I just want to add that my assertions about his determination not to sleep were medically substantiated. He did not fall asleep with the sedative that was supposed to be super fast-acting. Yes, he stopped fighting, but the child was awake. Awake enough, even, to pull the IV containing the sedative from his arm. We had been sent out of the room bc he was supposedly under, but a few minutes later I heard him screaming like crazy (like Crazy?). It was a few minutes before he cut off mid-blood-curdling scream. Tell me again that I should just let him cry it out and he will give up.

I admit that I have often longed to be hospitalized: summer of '02 (to avoid making a decision about where to go to law school); Jan 1999- July 2000 (I was a missionary in South America, but it wouldnt have mattered where)*; the week before Will was born (Andrew was 2); the first few months after Will was born . . . But my hospital fantasy is over forever. It was awful being stuck in there and I couldn't get out fast enough. Will and I finally made a break at 11pm on day 2.

Things are going fine at home. It is actually sort of nice to know that he will get at least 800 calories a day, no question. And seeing the other children who really do have serious illnesses was very sobering. Babies with cancer. Will is doing very well and has not made another attempt at pulling out the tube. He is just the sweetest little thing ever. I sometimes hate to see that tube on his face, but most of the time I don't notice. Its the look of heartbreaking sympathy on the faces of kindly strangers in public places that reminds me. People really are kind. How could then not be?

*just kidding. the only serious one is 2002. I really did fantasize hospitalization then. It would have been a car accident that did no permanent damage, but serious short-term injury. So I could have a few more months to decide. Totally understandable.

Goggles!

We came across a package of goggles today at Costco. I am always in a buying mood in that store, and so I obliged the kids' obsessive desire for them. We had gone swimming this morning and Brig and I are currently discussing which pass deal we should buy to the rec center so that I can take the kids several mornings a week. So goggles could be justified.
Will was having a seizure over the goggles about 30 seconds before I snapped this photo. I missed the look of rapture he had the first 30 seconds of wearing them.
Andrew cannot actually see through his pair. I discovered upon returning home that I had neglected to take the plastic peel off of his. Their fault for going so bonkers over getting those things strapped across their faces.
Andrew never even complained about being blind.
Will fell asleep in them on the way home. Even Andrew thought it was funny.

Today

January 17, Saturday

I have gotten so far behind in recording the events of our lives that I am overwhelmed by the prospect. So I thought I would just start small and record a thing or two and not let perfect be the enemy of good (and I will claim that little saying despite the fact that I can only wish in my wildest dreams that perfectionism was the root of my problems (rather than laziness, disorganization and self-loathing (and others-loathing*)).
I had a church basketball game tonight. I am terrible but I do try, which sort of makes everything a bit more comic-tragic for me and my team than I am comfortable with. My lack of skill and size combined with my innocent hopes of active participation creates a scene in which I look like I am playing against people exuding powerful force-fields that knock me to the ground when I get within a few inches.
Andrew, too young to experience proper shame at my outbursts, which is how I will characterize what it is that my body does when trying to play basketball . . . or dance/do anything rhythmical, enjoys these games immensely. He gets really into the spirit of them and wants to wear a shirt with numbers of it. A team shirt, as he calls it. Tonight, he wore a threadbare white tee shirt that read Hawaii 85, as in 1985, as in the trip to Hawaii my parents took in 1985 when they left my sister and me with a woman who had to find us every day wandering the sidewalks of her neighborhood as we tried to find our school, which was at the end of the sidewalk about a quarter mile (but out of sight, to be fair) and whose food I consistently refused to eat until she burst into tears and said that I would die before my parents returned. Andrew looked like we had found him in a ditch on our way to the church. But he was happy and I have reached the stage of motherhood where that is really all that matters to me anymore (mostly).
Why all the photos of Richard Marx? Of all the things to remember about this day (the library book denied me because I offered my husband's drivers license rather than a real card, the Donut Lunch, the nap listening to sad short stories on Brig's ipod while he enjoyed making brownies with Andrew, the heap of laundry I will hide in the basement rather than sort tonight and Andrew's joy at the monster truck duvet), I mostly want to remember that that is what Andrew's hair looked like all day long.

*this could mean you and probably has!