Tag Archives: Sound Byte

Sound Byte: WTF Eleanor?

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Last week, the day before I left for AZ, I decided that I needed to perform an emergency pedicure.

Since Eleanor is my constant sidekick, I set it up in the bathtub instead of my own little pedi tub (i.e. the old baby bathtub). As usual, the water was a tad more hot than I intended and we could barely dip in our toes without wincing.

Here is the conversation that followed:

Me: [in my best mommy, aren’t we having a fun time voice] Ooooh! It’s hot. Too hot. Ouch – my toes! It’s really hot – isn’t it?

Eleanor: Yeah – it’s really fucking hot.

Me: I’m sorry – what did you just say?

Eleanor: [smirking since she can tell I’m more amused (bemused?) than mad] I said, “it’s really fucking hot.”

Me: Eleanor. That is NOT a nice word and you know it. Where did you hear that? [As if I didn’t already know the answer…]

Eleanor: Daddy.

Me: Mmm Hmm. Let’s give him a call…

Then later in the day when I was in the car with George and Eleanor:

George: Rowan says, “stupid TV!”

Me: Well – we all say things like that when we’re frustrated. But we really shouldn’t say “stupid” since it’s not a nice word.

George: No! We shouldn’t say “stupid” – it’s not nice!

Me: That’s right.

Eleanor: No. We shouldn’t say stupid. And we also shouldn’t say “really fucking hot.” “Really fucking hot” isn’t nice either.

Me: [resigned] No Eleanor, “really fucking hot” isn’t nice either.

It’s all about learning opportunities our our house. Raisin’ ’em right!

MRI Update and My Own Little Shylock

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Oliver had his MRI yesterday and for the most part it was pretty uneventful. He was a little concerned about where we were going and what we were doing, but was easily distracted in the waiting room (where we waited for a LONG time).

He generally does pretty well with medical professionals, as long as he doesn’t think he’s going to get a shot. So he willingly followed the admin person leading us through the hospital corridors. And if we hadn’t seen anyone on our way to the radiology waiting room, he would have continued to be unconcerned. But, unfortunately, we passed a gurney with a little girl waiting for her MRI. She was sitting up and smiling, but the sight of her in a hospital gown horrified Oliver. And he immediately started pleading, “don’t cover me” and “I don’t want to be baby Oliver.” No idea what the latter meant – but I’m sure the former was all about that hospital gown. Fear of medical procedures or fashion minded aversion to ass exposure? You be the judge.

Anyway, I spent the next ten minutes in the second waiting room, talking him off the ledge until the anesthesiologist came in to meet with us. You would think that a grownup in full scrubs would look far more menacing that a ten year old in a hospital gown – but no. Not for Oliver. Talking to her seemed to calm him down considerably and once we faced the big scary machine that was obviously meant to swallow him whole (or at least his head), he felt very much at ease and happily breathed into the gas mask.

What a little freak.

But I was very proud of him for being so brave when the chips were down.

Coming out of the anesthesia wasn’t pleasant for him. Or me. But it wasn’t anything unexpected and within an hour of being at home, he was back to his usual happy, Thomas Train playing, pantsless self.

We’ll hear from his neurologist after she looks over his films (scans? images? I’ll have to pay better attention next time I watch Grey’s Anatomy). But to be honest, I’m not really expecting any revelations. It would be nice to have some new information to add to the picture. But if not, I’ll just take the “no news is good news” perspective.

On a completely unrelated note, four-year-old Eleanor was working on her negotiation skills with me last night.

She had several pipe cleaner bracelets that I made for her and very generously offered one to me. She even allowed me to choose the color I wanted…

Me: I’ll take the silver one.

Eleanor: Okay – that will be twenty-five dollars.

Me: I didn’t realize I had to pay for it, but fine – here you go. [hands her imaginary money and collects bracelet]

Eleanor: Do you want another one?

Me: Sure – why not? I’ll take the blue one.

Eleanor: You can have that for fifteen dollars.

Me: [hands over the money and takes the blue bracelet]

Eleanor: Do you want more?

Me: Yeah – okay. How about the gold one?

Eleanor: Ten dollars.

[Lather-rinse-repeat through two more bracelets and fourteen more dollars. The prices kept decreasing and I was impressed with her innate understanding of frequency rates.]

Eleanor: Do you want the last one?

Me: I thought I bought all of them! Well – no thanks. I can’t afford anymore. You’ve bled me dry. I can’t spare one more penny.

Eleanor: Okay – just one more penny.

Yikes! I don’t even want to know what her loan rates are like. A pound of flesh indeed! But I do admire her ability to get the most out of a business transaction. I’m bringing her to the Diamond District this weekend. I’ll never pay retail again…

She Knows What She Wants and…

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Yesterday, Eleanor was playing Barbies and conducting a rather sweet little dialogue with herself:

Eleanor: I love my Barbie… She was the BEST present.

Me: [Awww! She loves her Christmas present…she’s actually grateful for the things we give her. Maybe this is a step toward not demanding more all the time…]

Eleanor: My Barbie is the BEST present I EVER picked out for myself.

Oh.

Well – she comes by it honestly. Here’s to a new generation of discerning women who would rather pick out their own presents.


The beat goes on…

The Date

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No – not that kind of date…I wish! (Chris and I do need to get out more.)

The “date” is the day that I will have my surgery: March 11. First thing in the morning so I don’t have hours to work myself up into a ball of anxiety. I’m such a sissy.

But like I said – at least I won’t be having to have alien abduction surgery (i.e. I don’t have to be awake during the procedure – like I did for my c-section). And it’s such a routine operation that I really can’t justify any high drama. I have women in my neighborhood who are battling breast and ovarian cancer. They’ve suffered painful exploratory surgeries, the removal of body parts and months of chemotherapy and radiation. I watched my mother go through all of that and more, and she did it all with humor and courage. All of them do. My situation is nothing in comparison and it would be insulting not to follow their lead.

I consider myself very lucky. Not only to be handed a very minor and fixable problem – but also to be surrounded by these beautiful warriors. They put my own fears into perspective and prove by example that I really can face anything that comes my way. We all can.

In the meantime – I have to remember to post more. No excuses since I’m now going for short and sweet.

So here’s what I’ve got for today:

Me: Okay George – remember what I said… If you want to go to preschool, you have to listen to your teacher. I don’t want to hear anything about you whining and crying today…

George: Okay Mom.

Me: Mrs. K is in charge and you need to follow directions. If she says that you spend the whole day whining and crying again, then you may need to stay home on Monday. So remember: listen to the teacher and NO whining or crying.

Eleanor: And no yelling either.

Me: Yes – no yelling.

Eleanor: And no fighting.

Me: That’s right – no fighting.

Eleanor: And no screaming or pushing or hitting or…

Me: …Let’s not set ourselves up for failure here. Just focus on “no whining or crying” okay?

Fingers crossed…

I Very Missed You

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“Mommy! Where were you? It was too long. I cried.

“I very missed you.”


“‘Cause I pretty love you.”

-George Hood, February 2011

So yeah – things have gotten A LOT better since the last time I posted. I mean, I still have a “suspicious mass” in my lower abdomen and an appointment with a general surgeon tomorrow. But I’m also still feeling pretty confident that it’s all going to be just fine.

And the morose depression stuff? Also better. Talking to my husband and hearing from so many good friends helped put things into perspective. Actually, just knowing how much people care was probably the biggest help. Even though I closed comments, I still got e-mails from the people I don’t see every day. I wasn’t great about replying – but I do want to thank all of you who went out of your way to reach out to me. I’m not very good at asking for help – especially when I think I’m being overly dramatic (which is always). But every single message warmed my heart and reminded me of just how lucky I am to have so many wonderful people in my life, IRL or otherwise!

In the meantime, I figured some things out, and now have an exciting new opportunity that involves blogging and design/decor. But I’ll have to write more about that tomorrow along with details about how my appointment went.

Continue to send me the prayers, positive thoughts and good juju. I honestly believe that all of it counts. Just knowing that it’s coming my way makes a big difference. And makes me even more sure that I’ll kick ass in this whole surgery thing.


Even though I’m a wuss. I can fake it.

Sound Byte: Raising a Star

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Okay – I’ve got another one. As you may have guessed from my last post, Eleanor cracks me up.

Every time she throws another gem at me, I think, “I need to write this stuff down.”

So why not. I have only one post to show for myself this week (here, that is – I have plenty going on at Wishing True and Style Key West).

Anyway – here it is. When she’s not wearing dresses, Eleanor can also be found in summer pjs covered in stars. She loves them and calls them her “star pajamas.” She’s so creative…where does she come up with this stuff?!

Well the other morning while entrenched in some early a.m. mother torture, she was wearing her star pjs and doing a little water color painting. I came over to admire her work and commented that I loved her precise, linear style.

Her response? “Yeah – I’m a star.”

I love how my kids are at an age when humility or self deprecating protests are incomprehensible. I’ll cry when that ends…

So of course, I agreed, “yes – you are a star sweetie.”

She looked pleased with herself and elaborated, “uh huh – I’m a star in my pants.”

Dream big, baby – dream big.

Last Sound Bytes of the Week

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Okay – I had a few more – one from each child. So I thought I’d do a final installment of Sound Bytes.

Starting with Oliver.

We have several kid DVDs that mention The Great Wall of China (Little Einsteins, National Geographic, etc.), and I guess he recently took notice of this landmark. Suddenly, he gets really excited whenever he sees it and yells, “Look Mommy – the BIG Wall of CHINAAH!” Now all three of my kids call it The “Big” Wall of China. This is a source of endless amusement for me.

Then George. (Or as he likes to say, “now George – now George!”)

On our daily walk to the pool, we pass a house that displays several garden gnomes in throughout the landscaping. The twins can’t get enough of them and point excitedly every time they come into view. It’s like they’re actual gnomes running around pushing wheelbarrows and mending bird wings. Anyway – it took about two weeks for George to be able to say “gnome.” He insisted on calling them “omens.” He could easily manage the phonetic pronunciation of “nome” – yet no matter how many times I (and Eleanor, my self appointed T.A.) would ask him to, “repeat after me – NOOOOME,” his response would always be, “OOOOOMEN.” (With a huge smile) Finally yesterday he said “NOMES!” and I though, “FINALLY!” Then Eleanor said “OMENS!” Sigh.

And last but not least (never least), Eleanor.

Yesterday, George took several crayons and drew all over one of the couches. Literally right behind my back. I heard a scribbling on fabric noise behind me (at this point of motherhood I know that sound well) and when I whipped around to find the source, there he was working three crayons at once at Looney Tunes speed. Within seconds he managed to cover the entire back of the couch. I was furious. We talk about “only drawing on paper” something like…oh, I don’t know…FIFTY times a day.

While he was in solitary upstairs , I used a magic eraser to eradicate the marks, and Eleanor kept me company with her running commentary on the entire debacle:

Eleanor: George drew on the furniture. He drew right there.

Me: Yes and we NEVER draw on the furniture.

Eleanor: No. George is in time out. Because he drew right there.

Me: That’s right. He’s in time out because we NEVER draw on the walls or on the furniture. ONLY on paper.

Eleanor: I only draw on paper. Or I get time OUT.

Me: Yes – because drawing on furniture is VERY naughty.

Eleanor: [in wide-eyed seriousness] And it’s VERY dangerous.

I laugh every time I think about this. I guess they do tend to get in trouble for doing things that are “dangerous.” But George’s couch graffiti doesn’t quite qualify. Well – at least one of them is listening to me…

Sound Byte: And of Course, Oliver…

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There is a reason why I didn’t have any sound bytes for Oliver this week. Speech isn’t his strong suit. He says and does plenty of hilarious things that make me laugh, but they’re not always the kind of stories that other people would understand. It’s all very, “you had to be there” – these anecdotes in the world of developmental delays…

But in just a few words of his off kilter conversational stylings – he can reduce me to a muddy puddle in the public showers of motherhood tears:

Oliver: Big hug Mommy!

Me: [gasping for air in his bone crushing embrace] I love your hugs honey. They’re the best ones.

Oliver: Best hugs, Mommy. Best friend hug.

Then time stopped and I didn’t know if I’d ever breathe again.

Through the series of fireworks exploding in my heart [LOVE! HOPE! FEAR! ANGER! GRATITUDE! aaaand….wait for it….wait for it….UNREASONABLE, UNMITIGATED FAITH THAT IT WILL ALL TURN OUT OKAY!], I wished with every fiber of my being that he’ll one day look at me and roll his eyes at the ridiculous notion that his mother would ever be his best friend.

If that makes any sense.