A has been making some great strides in some areas, and not-so-great strides in other areas. But, Hey! It's progress. A turned 6 about a month ago, and now:
A keeps his pants dry most of the time, now. As in, he's only wet maybe once or twice a week now, and he'll pee in the toilet. He very seldom volunteers to go, though, so we have to prompt him hourly to prevent accidents. He wears normal cotton undies at home, we're trying to get him used to them in the hopes that we'll transition to cotton undies all the time, even out in public. Thankfully, we have wood laminate flooring and vinyl flooring throughout a good portion of the downstairs, and the living room carpet is pretty old already and will be coming out soon (we hope) anyway -- so even when accidents happen, cleaning them up at home is no big deal other than the obvious gross factor. It's just something that we do, like washing dishes or vacuuming.
A still does not have a good control on his rectal sphincter, and commonly streaks in his undies (sometimes with a little extra) throughout the day. Pooping in the toilet is a rare event for us, his muscles just can't seem to do the required pushing all the time. Add in some constipation issues, and it's a recipe for all sorts of bathroom fun. And some occasional fun in other rooms, too. And a lot of laundry. I need to buy stock in the Chlorox corporation, I think I supply a good chunk of their annual profits and want some of it back.
Currently A wears night-time pants (normally used for nocturnal bed wetters) at school and at church, just because he does still have accidents if he's not prompted to go EVERY HOUR. This prompting is not always done by others when we're away from home, so we're trying to save A some embarrassment and prevent teasing or disgust from his classmates. Plus, we don't have enough pairs of pants for him to "go through" each day -- he's only got 5 pairs, total, including jeans and athletic pants. It is much easier on the (overworked) staff to change out underwear designed to hold the mess and keep the outside pants clean, than rinse out cotton undies and multiple pairs of jeans at school. And we can't afford for him to have 4 or 5 different pairs of pants for every day at school.
We still have to give verbal prompts every step of the way: A, go to the bathroom please. Pull your pants down and sit down on the toilet. Wipe your bottom (if needed). Put on your underwear, and then put on your pants. (He likes to strip his bottoms completely to use the toilet). Wash your hands.
We can't give him the entire list of prompts at once; he gets "stuck" on the toilet and waits for a verbal command to wipe his butt, or to put his clothes back on. But he's doing it! The butt wiping is something fairly new that we've been trying, and so far it's had mixed results. A doesn't have good hand dexterity or fine motor skills, so holding toilet paper is difficult for him at the necessary angle to get the job done. He also has a tendency to do some fecal smearing on the walls, his legs, or the toilet seat if he gets any on his hands. It's good that he doesn't want the poop on his hands, but we just haven't been able to convince him to finish up and we'll wash our hands when we finish. (Which we always do anyway).
I usually have to clean up the very last traces that he can't see or reach on his bottom, but he does get most of it cleaned up himself. He also has to clean the "brown artwork", if any, off the walls or toilet seat with a disinfectant wipe. (Again, I generally have to go behind him and finish up). It would be much faster if I did it all for him, but he really needs to learn how to clean up after himself -- and how to do it the right way. Even if it takes a while.
A also still needs help fastening buttons and zippers on his pants. It has not been easy for us to find elastic-waisted jeans for a boy that can wear size 7's in length but is skinny enough for a size 6 -- even slims fall off his butt. I know they're out there, we just haven't found any that work for us yet. So, he wears "normal" zip-fly, button at the waist jeans but has to have assistance getting them on and off. Likewise with the zipper on his winter coat, and tying shoelaces.
A has been doing much better with his writing skills -- he brought home a sheet of paper on Monday that quite legibly said, "I like to read books mommy." I think that one will be kept in a special place, it's the first time we've had anything hand-written that was that clear. He spells things all the time with plastic letters on the fridge, or with the computer, but this is actual writing. With a pencil. His behavior at school is better some days, worse others. A does not like transitions, and he does not like taking turns. Everyone is supposed to do everything in the same order, always, and since A was first at the start of the school year, he still expects to be first to do everything. He's getting educated otherwise, but he's giving the teacher and his aide fits while he's learning it.
I have to be careful with the foods I send for A for his school lunches. Everything needs to be easy to open, and ready to eat. I can't send a whole apple, I have to slice it up and core it or he'll eat the entire thing. I have to cut his sandwich in half to make it easier to pick up, and peel oranges and separate the pieces. If there is a banana, I start the peel at the top so he can grab it and finish. None of those reusable containers work for him, A just can't open them; I use the fold-top plastic sandwich baggies. Not the most environmentally-friendly choice, but it's what needs to happen right now. He does have a reusable thermos for his water, with an easy push-button opening lid.
I still have to cut up his food for him, he can't handle cutting with a knife and fork nor can he just use a fork to cut when necessary. He has gotten a lot better with his spoon usage, he spills very little now. A had a problem with dumping the food halfway to his mouth because he didn't know how to hold the utensils without grasping them completely in his fist, and he'd turn the spoon over trying to get it into his mouth. He still has his textural issues with soups and cereal with milk on it -- he absolutely refuses to eat them. I generally drain as much liquid out of soups as I can before giving him his serving and just give him his cereal dry. He also does not like the flavor of mayonnaise, sour cream or cream cheese (unless it's in a cheesecake) and won't eat certain salads if they look white. This includes tuna, chicken, or fruits. He will eat whipped cream, but usually only if you make him take a bite of it and he figures out that he likes it at that point.
Verbally, we are getting more words out of him than ever before. He saw the leftover snow on Saturday (2 inches) and came up to me late in the afternoon and said, "Red. Boots are red. Put on? Put on green coat. Go outside. Play snow?" Thrilling!!!!!
We don't generally get more than two, maybe three words together at a time. This was a whole paragraph! And yes, we all went outside to play in the snow. A can't make snowballs with his hands, so I have to scoop up some snow and help him form them, hand over hand. He does take great delight in dumping the snow on his sister's head while snickering, so there's something that is refreshingly funny.
We can tell that many of A's brain processes are pretty typical, even if he doesn't talk a lot and has some fine motor skill challenges. He's also got a mischievous streak a mile wide. For example, K fell asleep on the couch yesterday afternoon and A walked over there, looked at her, and began tickling her. She cracked one eye open and screeched, to which A responded with a cocky grin and a chortle. He tickled her again, and K threw out a punch that A dodged easily. Then he whalloped her with a throw pillow. At this point, K is getting more and more upset because all she wants to do is take a nap. A and K got into an all-out fight, complete with feet, pillow whomps, and grappling.
Z and I actually stood back and watched it for a minute before splitting the would-be WWE contenders up, just to revel in the weirdness of what would usually be considered the normalcy for siblings. We stood at the doorway so we could duck out of sight and crack up when we needed to. And of course we stepped in when it became apparent that the kicks and pillows were becoming a tad more forceful and the expressions on both kids' faces started becoming more...determined. I didn't want a UFC experience in my living room, so they were quickly sent to opposite ends of the room to cool off.
Another new development is A's radio. Z's parents got a small CD player/radio for A's birthday, and he loves it. I've taught him how to turn it on, and how to push "play". We haven't quite gotten how to change out CDs yet, but that will come. He listens to his radio all the time. This is great! I'm hoping to get him used to headphones, so we can take a walkman or something with us when we're out around a lot of people. (Shoot, do they even MAKE walkmans any more? We'll get whatever the current thingamabob is. I-Pod?) If we've got music, maybe he won't freak out so much at events like, well, going to the mall.
I know a lady with a 12-yr-old son on the spectrum, and this really works well with her son. She's happy because she can go shopping or take the family to the park for Independence Day, and he doesn't freak out as long as they have his music going. They do take a lot of extra batteries, just in case. We're going to give it a try with A, I just have to figure out how to get him used to headphones. And I also have to find some that are durable enough to withstand A ripping them off initially. Forget the earbuds, we just need the old-fashioned on-ear kind.
I don't know if this would work on an airplane? I know you have to turn off certain electronics for take-off and landing, but don't know if an I-pod would be on that list. I haven't flown in years, so some research is in order. Z and I have been discussing vacation times and seeing family, which are spread from CA to TX to GA. We'd have more visiting time and less travel time if we flew rather than drove, but I really don't know how A would react to the noise and being in close confines with a lot of people. That's at least a year out at this point so we've got plenty of time to figure it all out.
Bottom line is, we're making progress every day. The storms are still there, but we're seeing those gorgeous rays of sun break though at the most unexpected times, and we're enjoying getting to know our son every day.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Confessions of a Wuss
Yay!! We got our hot water back yesterday around lunch time, after a week of "camping out"!!
I've never been so glad to be a wuss in my life.
BOTH of the heating elements in the water heater were toast, and when the plumber pulled them out I could have sworn that I was on a National Geographic special. They looked like something that had been under the ocean for years -- rainbow mineral deposits galore, and the metal had actually been eaten away in several places. If I didn't know they were heating elements for my water heater, I'd probably call Jacques Cousteau's grandson in to take a look at it and identify it for me. Yikes! Our water is very mineral-laden here, especially with calcium and limestone. The water heater was put in before the conditioning system was put into place -- so a lot of damage occurred in just a few years.
But we have new elements in there, and nice running hot water that makes showers possible and washing dishes much more easy. It's not that boiling water to wash dishes is difficult (put it on the stove for a few minutes until it boils, then pour into the sink), it's just a lot easier to refresh the dish pan if hot water is available out of the tap. I guess I'm just a modern, spoiled girl.
But never fear! I'm still having pioneer experiences. Learning the ropes with this wood stove hasn't been as hard as I thought, but there is the labor aspect of hauling the wood. We got a delivery of 2 cords of wood on Monday, dumped unceremoniously in our driveway by the garage. The stacked wood pile is through a narrow gate on the other side of a short fence. I was on a time limit to get it all put up: freezing rain was supposed to start around lunchtime on Tuesday. Z's back is shot, so I wanted to get it all done before he was home. I didn't want to create any more pain for him, his 4 hours commute each day (round trip) is already killing him -- and he's stubborn enough to get in there and haul wood anyway. I was DETERMINED to get it all done. And I did.
Oh, I am a foolish mortal.
I had no wagon or wheelbarrow, nor could I get anything rigged up to drag or roll the wood through there, so I did it the old-fashioned way: I hand carried every single piece of wood to their respective piles. Let me just tell you, if you don't know how much wood makes up 2 cords, that it is a lot of wood to have to stack. A single full cord of wood is roughly 8 feet long, by 4 feet deep, by 4 feet high. The delivered pile, in which the logs were sticking out in every direction possible, was taller than I am and longer than it was tall. Of course, I'm not very tall either... We actually received a little more than two cords, I had enough to stack two cords' worth, make new end caps for the second cord's stack, and put some additional wood in the mudroom for a dry, easy morning supply before it was all put away.
Some of the wood was fresher and needed some more time to dry out before we burn it, so that all went on the far pile. The more seasoned stuff went on the closer pile. It took me five pretty much non-stop hours on Monday to move it (until it got too dark to see), and an additional hour on Tuesday morning before the rains came to get it all done. I can only carry a couple of logs at a time (more wuss confession), and this load was not split down very far. Eighteen inches of solid wood can be heavy, especially if it's a fresh tree that is almost as fat as it is long. My word. Those pioneer women all look pretty normal in the old photographs I've seen. If they did this kind of work all the time, you'd figure they'd give Arnold Schwarzenegger a run for his money!
During this process, I frequently thought of my high school language teacher (she taught French, Spanish, and German but threw in a smattering of Italian and Russian just because). Mrs. Van E was from Switzerland, but moved to this country when she was 15 or 16 years old. She only knew two phrases in English when she arrived, and they both apply here: "Oh, my aching back!" and "Son of a -----!"
MORE wuss confession: I don't care for mice. Oh, they're cute, and I couldn't physically send one to that great cheese wheel in the sky, but I don't like them in my house. We had no real issues with them last year (except for that one oddball discovery last June), but we also kept the grass pretty short around the house. This year, the tenants apparently cut the grass only a couple of times the entire summer -- which just happened to be a pretty cool, wet summer. Tall grass all the way up to the house + a hole up by the roof = mouse trouble.
After hearing the cute, fuzzy little disease-spreaders scampering about in the eaves and overhead on the acoustic tile ceilings, Z put some D-Con way back in one of the eaves (out of reach of kids and dogs). Our mice are smart little boogers and know how to trip conventional mousetraps without getting caught. I have not discovered any nibbled items in the pantry as of yet, but we figured we'd take preventative measures.
We have since learned that the D-Con does indeed work: we found one dead mouse behind the woodstove, and recently discovered another one in my son's room. In the ceiling. I had smelled something funky in there a few days ago, but thought it was just his socks and shoes (boy's got some strong foot odor -- and has since he was just a little baby). Fast-forward a few days, and it's definitely not his shoes. Or his bed, no accidents there. Or the carpet. I finally figured out that the stench was coming from the ceiling or the walls. I have to admit, I was relieved to discover that even using the little step ladder I have, I was still too short to see up in the ceiling and had to let my husband do it. Darn!
So -- two knowns disposed of; I think there's another one in a wall somewhere, though, because the smell is starting to get stronger and there aren't any more in the ceiling that we can see. I thought D-Con had something in it to prevent bad smells from dead critters? That may just be my imagination, though.
Eschk. I'd almost rather deal with scampering than this smell, but what's done is done.
I've never been so glad to be a wuss in my life.
BOTH of the heating elements in the water heater were toast, and when the plumber pulled them out I could have sworn that I was on a National Geographic special. They looked like something that had been under the ocean for years -- rainbow mineral deposits galore, and the metal had actually been eaten away in several places. If I didn't know they were heating elements for my water heater, I'd probably call Jacques Cousteau's grandson in to take a look at it and identify it for me. Yikes! Our water is very mineral-laden here, especially with calcium and limestone. The water heater was put in before the conditioning system was put into place -- so a lot of damage occurred in just a few years.
But we have new elements in there, and nice running hot water that makes showers possible and washing dishes much more easy. It's not that boiling water to wash dishes is difficult (put it on the stove for a few minutes until it boils, then pour into the sink), it's just a lot easier to refresh the dish pan if hot water is available out of the tap. I guess I'm just a modern, spoiled girl.
But never fear! I'm still having pioneer experiences. Learning the ropes with this wood stove hasn't been as hard as I thought, but there is the labor aspect of hauling the wood. We got a delivery of 2 cords of wood on Monday, dumped unceremoniously in our driveway by the garage. The stacked wood pile is through a narrow gate on the other side of a short fence. I was on a time limit to get it all put up: freezing rain was supposed to start around lunchtime on Tuesday. Z's back is shot, so I wanted to get it all done before he was home. I didn't want to create any more pain for him, his 4 hours commute each day (round trip) is already killing him -- and he's stubborn enough to get in there and haul wood anyway. I was DETERMINED to get it all done. And I did.
Oh, I am a foolish mortal.
I had no wagon or wheelbarrow, nor could I get anything rigged up to drag or roll the wood through there, so I did it the old-fashioned way: I hand carried every single piece of wood to their respective piles. Let me just tell you, if you don't know how much wood makes up 2 cords, that it is a lot of wood to have to stack. A single full cord of wood is roughly 8 feet long, by 4 feet deep, by 4 feet high. The delivered pile, in which the logs were sticking out in every direction possible, was taller than I am and longer than it was tall. Of course, I'm not very tall either... We actually received a little more than two cords, I had enough to stack two cords' worth, make new end caps for the second cord's stack, and put some additional wood in the mudroom for a dry, easy morning supply before it was all put away.
Some of the wood was fresher and needed some more time to dry out before we burn it, so that all went on the far pile. The more seasoned stuff went on the closer pile. It took me five pretty much non-stop hours on Monday to move it (until it got too dark to see), and an additional hour on Tuesday morning before the rains came to get it all done. I can only carry a couple of logs at a time (more wuss confession), and this load was not split down very far. Eighteen inches of solid wood can be heavy, especially if it's a fresh tree that is almost as fat as it is long. My word. Those pioneer women all look pretty normal in the old photographs I've seen. If they did this kind of work all the time, you'd figure they'd give Arnold Schwarzenegger a run for his money!
During this process, I frequently thought of my high school language teacher (she taught French, Spanish, and German but threw in a smattering of Italian and Russian just because). Mrs. Van E was from Switzerland, but moved to this country when she was 15 or 16 years old. She only knew two phrases in English when she arrived, and they both apply here: "Oh, my aching back!" and "Son of a -----!"
MORE wuss confession: I don't care for mice. Oh, they're cute, and I couldn't physically send one to that great cheese wheel in the sky, but I don't like them in my house. We had no real issues with them last year (except for that one oddball discovery last June), but we also kept the grass pretty short around the house. This year, the tenants apparently cut the grass only a couple of times the entire summer -- which just happened to be a pretty cool, wet summer. Tall grass all the way up to the house + a hole up by the roof = mouse trouble.
After hearing the cute, fuzzy little disease-spreaders scampering about in the eaves and overhead on the acoustic tile ceilings, Z put some D-Con way back in one of the eaves (out of reach of kids and dogs). Our mice are smart little boogers and know how to trip conventional mousetraps without getting caught. I have not discovered any nibbled items in the pantry as of yet, but we figured we'd take preventative measures.
We have since learned that the D-Con does indeed work: we found one dead mouse behind the woodstove, and recently discovered another one in my son's room. In the ceiling. I had smelled something funky in there a few days ago, but thought it was just his socks and shoes (boy's got some strong foot odor -- and has since he was just a little baby). Fast-forward a few days, and it's definitely not his shoes. Or his bed, no accidents there. Or the carpet. I finally figured out that the stench was coming from the ceiling or the walls. I have to admit, I was relieved to discover that even using the little step ladder I have, I was still too short to see up in the ceiling and had to let my husband do it. Darn!
So -- two knowns disposed of; I think there's another one in a wall somewhere, though, because the smell is starting to get stronger and there aren't any more in the ceiling that we can see. I thought D-Con had something in it to prevent bad smells from dead critters? That may just be my imagination, though.
Eschk. I'd almost rather deal with scampering than this smell, but what's done is done.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Running Hot Water is for Wusses
Well, not really. But saying that makes me feel better.
Our hot water heater died sometime between 11:30 Tuesday night (when I got my shower) and 4:15 Wednesday morning, when my husband got up and tried to take a shower before work. There's nothing quite like freezing water pulled up from a well to wake you up quickly. There's also nothing quite like freezing water pulled up from a well to make your husband yip in a really funny manner.
I have come to the conclusion that difficult things can sometimes seem less...epic...if one has a full belly. Or if one ingests a lot of chocolate. Sometimes both. So, after downing some breakfast (only!), I was a good hot water heater owner and read the handy dandy instruction manual that came with the water heater, and did all the trouble-shooting suggestions listed on the page. (By the way, did you know that each month you're apparently supposed to release a few gallons of water out of the top "pressure relief valve", and also drain a few quarts from the bottom if you have very hard water to keep sediment from building up in the tank? I sure didn't.)
After fiddling with the breakers, hitting the "reset" button, and checking both temperature settings (our heater has two), I called the manufacturer who suggested I do the same things I'd already done. Then they said to call a repair person, because this is going to take some work -- they can ship parts to me via 3-day mail once we determine what's going on, but also that there is a good chance that it will need to be replaced. It was at this point that the chocolate came into play. This model apparently has been known to "tank" after the warranty has expired, but before 10 years is up. Yeah, I know. "Tank". I went there. Our water heater was installed January of 2004.
We'll find out more hopefully tomorrow, after we get paid and get someone out here to look at the darned thing.
In the meantime, I'm (semi) pioneering it. We have the benefit of running water, at least, so no hiking down to the "crik" that's a mile away and hauling it back. The water pumped out of our ground seems to be a direct line from, oh, Siberia, so we have to heat it on the cooking stove or the woodstove before attempting some mundane housekeeping. I have figured out that:
Dishes take 3 boiling tea kettles of water plus some cold from the well, one kettle per side of the sink and the third split between the two to "refresh" the heat halfway through the job. And you have to get those dishes done pretty quickly.
Baths require boiling a tea kettle, a 4-qt dutch oven, and a gigantazoid 30(?)-quart stock pot full of boiling water for a nice, warm bath -- plus a little cold well water to temper it. Not hot, but at least warm enough to get the job done. Beats the alternative, which is shivering hard enough to knock the soap off the ledge while trying to grab it. Just sayin'.
And yeah, I do it the old-fashioned way of plunking one kiddo in the tub, giving them a quick scrub, and then plunking the next one in right afterward. Probably not a good practice to do long-term because of germies, but it gets the job done temporarily. I can't reheat water right away because the arctic tundra water coming straight out of the faucet will warp the hot pans if I don't let the pans cool down first, and then I have to warm the water to room temperature. I can't put the pots straight onto the heat after filling them for the same reason -- not even the cast iron.
This is all a little weird, but I'm finding my rhythm with it (this is water heaterless day #2) and it's really not that hard. I do have an appreciation for all those pioneer ladies that did this day in and day out, though. It takes some serious timing to get everything done in a day! At least I don't have to do laundry this way; I always use cold water in my machine anyway.
So, we're kind of roughing it. With electricity and running water. Heh. It is actually interesting, as long as it's a short-term issue. I'm remembering all my Little House on the Prairie books, and other historical books from the Early American period, and am fascinated by this. Again, temporarily.
I do love me a hot shower.
Pioneeringly yours,
~ J
Our hot water heater died sometime between 11:30 Tuesday night (when I got my shower) and 4:15 Wednesday morning, when my husband got up and tried to take a shower before work. There's nothing quite like freezing water pulled up from a well to wake you up quickly. There's also nothing quite like freezing water pulled up from a well to make your husband yip in a really funny manner.
I have come to the conclusion that difficult things can sometimes seem less...epic...if one has a full belly. Or if one ingests a lot of chocolate. Sometimes both. So, after downing some breakfast (only!), I was a good hot water heater owner and read the handy dandy instruction manual that came with the water heater, and did all the trouble-shooting suggestions listed on the page. (By the way, did you know that each month you're apparently supposed to release a few gallons of water out of the top "pressure relief valve", and also drain a few quarts from the bottom if you have very hard water to keep sediment from building up in the tank? I sure didn't.)
After fiddling with the breakers, hitting the "reset" button, and checking both temperature settings (our heater has two), I called the manufacturer who suggested I do the same things I'd already done. Then they said to call a repair person, because this is going to take some work -- they can ship parts to me via 3-day mail once we determine what's going on, but also that there is a good chance that it will need to be replaced. It was at this point that the chocolate came into play. This model apparently has been known to "tank" after the warranty has expired, but before 10 years is up. Yeah, I know. "Tank". I went there. Our water heater was installed January of 2004.
We'll find out more hopefully tomorrow, after we get paid and get someone out here to look at the darned thing.
In the meantime, I'm (semi) pioneering it. We have the benefit of running water, at least, so no hiking down to the "crik" that's a mile away and hauling it back. The water pumped out of our ground seems to be a direct line from, oh, Siberia, so we have to heat it on the cooking stove or the woodstove before attempting some mundane housekeeping. I have figured out that:
Dishes take 3 boiling tea kettles of water plus some cold from the well, one kettle per side of the sink and the third split between the two to "refresh" the heat halfway through the job. And you have to get those dishes done pretty quickly.
Baths require boiling a tea kettle, a 4-qt dutch oven, and a gigantazoid 30(?)-quart stock pot full of boiling water for a nice, warm bath -- plus a little cold well water to temper it. Not hot, but at least warm enough to get the job done. Beats the alternative, which is shivering hard enough to knock the soap off the ledge while trying to grab it. Just sayin'.
And yeah, I do it the old-fashioned way of plunking one kiddo in the tub, giving them a quick scrub, and then plunking the next one in right afterward. Probably not a good practice to do long-term because of germies, but it gets the job done temporarily. I can't reheat water right away because the arctic tundra water coming straight out of the faucet will warp the hot pans if I don't let the pans cool down first, and then I have to warm the water to room temperature. I can't put the pots straight onto the heat after filling them for the same reason -- not even the cast iron.
This is all a little weird, but I'm finding my rhythm with it (this is water heaterless day #2) and it's really not that hard. I do have an appreciation for all those pioneer ladies that did this day in and day out, though. It takes some serious timing to get everything done in a day! At least I don't have to do laundry this way; I always use cold water in my machine anyway.
So, we're kind of roughing it. With electricity and running water. Heh. It is actually interesting, as long as it's a short-term issue. I'm remembering all my Little House on the Prairie books, and other historical books from the Early American period, and am fascinated by this. Again, temporarily.
I do love me a hot shower.
Pioneeringly yours,
~ J
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Endearing
My husband is an awesome daddy. He just spent the last four days off of work, and took a lot of time to just be silly with the kids.
He could have holed up in the office with the computer, which he likes to do sometimes. He could have holed up in a room with his guitar and written some music, which he also likes to do sometimes. If he had his hunter's license this year, he could have been out looking for Bambi. Instead, he chilled with the urchins the entire holiday weekend. And they ate it up, of course. K is a real "Daddy's Girl".
He chased them around the house (usually with one or both dogs leaping around and through them), tickled them until they couldn't breathe, and made up goofy songs just to see them laugh and hear K go, "Daaaadddyyyy!!"
He dragged out the Christmas tree and put it up, per K's request, on Friday and put it together. He even fluffed the branches, a task he generally hates to do because it's tedious. But he did it, because K looked at him with those puppy dog eyes she can get, and she helped him. A watched that process for a few minutes, and then went to grab a book to snuggle in on the couch.
He read books to both kids, let K help him stoke the fire (while mommy about had a heart attack -- there's FLAMES in there, honey!), and threw popcorn up in the air so the dogs could catch it and make the kids laugh.
There is something in me that just melts when I see my man willing to wear dress-up hats and a bead necklace while K prances around in her fairy wings, a crown, and sneakers; or getting down on the floor to play with A's cars or characters from Toy Story. Warm, fuzzy, endearment.
Love it. And Him.
I shall now scoop my mushy puddle-of-goo self off the keyboard and get about today's tasks.
As soon as I solidify again.
This ends the sappy portion of the day; tomorrow's forecast should be drier. Thank You.
He could have holed up in the office with the computer, which he likes to do sometimes. He could have holed up in a room with his guitar and written some music, which he also likes to do sometimes. If he had his hunter's license this year, he could have been out looking for Bambi. Instead, he chilled with the urchins the entire holiday weekend. And they ate it up, of course. K is a real "Daddy's Girl".
He chased them around the house (usually with one or both dogs leaping around and through them), tickled them until they couldn't breathe, and made up goofy songs just to see them laugh and hear K go, "Daaaadddyyyy!!"
He dragged out the Christmas tree and put it up, per K's request, on Friday and put it together. He even fluffed the branches, a task he generally hates to do because it's tedious. But he did it, because K looked at him with those puppy dog eyes she can get, and she helped him. A watched that process for a few minutes, and then went to grab a book to snuggle in on the couch.
He read books to both kids, let K help him stoke the fire (while mommy about had a heart attack -- there's FLAMES in there, honey!), and threw popcorn up in the air so the dogs could catch it and make the kids laugh.
There is something in me that just melts when I see my man willing to wear dress-up hats and a bead necklace while K prances around in her fairy wings, a crown, and sneakers; or getting down on the floor to play with A's cars or characters from Toy Story. Warm, fuzzy, endearment.
Love it. And Him.
I shall now scoop my mushy puddle-of-goo self off the keyboard and get about today's tasks.
As soon as I solidify again.
This ends the sappy portion of the day; tomorrow's forecast should be drier. Thank You.
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