Re-introducing Kelsie-isms. But why should Kelsie have all the fun? I'm also introducing Dylan-isms and Brian-isms.
Kelsie:
* “I feel rusty.” (that’s how she described the achy feeling when she had strep throat)
* “I’ll try not to get my attitude on the other kids’ toys.” (I’ve now stolen this one and adapted it to “don’t get your attitude on me”)
* “We need to go to the store to get Dananinos because they’re really healthy because they have twice the calcium to make my bones strong.” (think she watches any TV?)
* With her pants unbuttoned, unzipped, hanging wide open: “My pants are too tight. They feel okay like this but that’s inappopiate.” (not a typo; she pronounces inappropriate without any Rs)
Dylan:
* He likes to end requests with “RIGHT NOW!” as in “Can you please get me some juicy RIGHT NOW?”
* “I lub you really much”
* He always refers to his sister as “my Kelsie,” which of course makes me melt
* “I have to poop all the time and it goes plop.” (he was very distraught about this)
* Said to one teacher about another teacher: “I want Miss Brittany. I want to kiss her.”
* "Mommy, you're a princess. But you don't look like a princess."
Brian:
* Nobody likes smart women, so you should tone that down.
* Damn, it’s 9:45 already and I still have to poop.
* The next to last piece of bacon is sad because you know you’re only gonna have one piece of bacon left.
These are just from the last few days so they're top of mind. I'll post new -isms as they come up. We're also finally going to give in and get a new camera this weekend (or at least shop for one) so I can start posting pictures again soon.
And Dylan's getting a Big Boy Room this weekend. Poor kid is still in a crib! He just has never tried to climb out and it has never seemed to bother him, so we didn't see any reason to introduce the freedom to get out of bed whenever he wanted. But at some point it has to become a mild form of child abuse to leave a kid in a crib too long.
Nice little weekend.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Dealing with the death of a child
I’ve been abnormally saddened lately about the death of a child who I never knew. Having never met this family (until after the fact), I can’t quite figure out why this has affected me so strongly. Best I can figure, it’s because their family looks on paper very similar to ours – 5 year old girl and 2-year old boy (the ages of our kids when it happened a few weeks ago), they live in Hoboken close to us, the father plays golf with Brian and the mother is a career woman (lawyer). It also probably has to do with the fact that this boy died of cancer. Totally unpreventable. Completely random in who it attacks and why. Utterly unfair.
I’ve known, or known of, other families who have lost children but I’ve never felt so wounded by any of their stories. Probably because in most other cases it was explainable and therefore easy for me to tell myself that I could prevent that from happening in my family. Whether that’s true or not, it’s a convenient delusion. But in this case a young boy, just 2 months younger than Dylan, woke up one day unable to move his arm. Tests found a stage 4 tumor wrapped around his spine. He spent the next 7 weeks undergoing radiation until the tumor crippled the nerves that affected his vital organs.
Still today, two months later, I think about this family every single day – how heart wrenching it must be for the parents to have to go through the motions of the daily grind, how did they explain it to their daughter, how do they learn to be a family of three again, how can they resume a normal life, how do they avoid reminders of him. When my kids hit a milestone or have a memorable moment, I think about the fact that this family won’t have that moment with their boy. When I lose my temper with my kids, I try to remind myself how grateful this family would be to be in my situation. I’m terrified that something like this could happen to us.
When it first happened I couldn’t sleep, I cried every day for a week, and I was completely distracted at work. Part of me feels selfish for letting it get to me like this. What a luxury for me to be able to cry and then comfort myself by hugging both of my kids. Something these parents – the ones who really need comforting – can’t do. I guess all I can hope for is that this family can somehow find a source of comfort and strength to move on, but they will never get over it.
I met the mother the other day. I was amazed at how … together … she seemed. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I have so much respect for the way she carried herself. She was strong and confident, well-dressed and accessorized. She even looked rested. But occasionally I’d see her mind wandering during a conversation and during those times she looked tired to the bone, but otherwise you never would have known. How is that possible?
Brian has seen the father a few times, who also seems to be holding up relatively well. Or at least faking it well. They played golf the other day (at a golf tournament that was renamed this year in honor of the little boy, and happened to be played the day before what would have been his third birthday) and the father had a rough morning but apparently was composed the rest of the day. I don’t think I could be that strong.
This family will probably never know how they’ve affected me. I’ve realized how lucky my family is (because luck is the only way I can explain it). I now have a role model for how to be strong, or at least appear that way, when times get tough. And I have perspective to accept what we have and acknowledge that no matter how frustrating things can be, it could be far worse.
Now if I could just stop tearing up every time I think about him … (I’m sure they feel the same way).
I’ve known, or known of, other families who have lost children but I’ve never felt so wounded by any of their stories. Probably because in most other cases it was explainable and therefore easy for me to tell myself that I could prevent that from happening in my family. Whether that’s true or not, it’s a convenient delusion. But in this case a young boy, just 2 months younger than Dylan, woke up one day unable to move his arm. Tests found a stage 4 tumor wrapped around his spine. He spent the next 7 weeks undergoing radiation until the tumor crippled the nerves that affected his vital organs.
Still today, two months later, I think about this family every single day – how heart wrenching it must be for the parents to have to go through the motions of the daily grind, how did they explain it to their daughter, how do they learn to be a family of three again, how can they resume a normal life, how do they avoid reminders of him. When my kids hit a milestone or have a memorable moment, I think about the fact that this family won’t have that moment with their boy. When I lose my temper with my kids, I try to remind myself how grateful this family would be to be in my situation. I’m terrified that something like this could happen to us.
When it first happened I couldn’t sleep, I cried every day for a week, and I was completely distracted at work. Part of me feels selfish for letting it get to me like this. What a luxury for me to be able to cry and then comfort myself by hugging both of my kids. Something these parents – the ones who really need comforting – can’t do. I guess all I can hope for is that this family can somehow find a source of comfort and strength to move on, but they will never get over it.
I met the mother the other day. I was amazed at how … together … she seemed. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I have so much respect for the way she carried herself. She was strong and confident, well-dressed and accessorized. She even looked rested. But occasionally I’d see her mind wandering during a conversation and during those times she looked tired to the bone, but otherwise you never would have known. How is that possible?
Brian has seen the father a few times, who also seems to be holding up relatively well. Or at least faking it well. They played golf the other day (at a golf tournament that was renamed this year in honor of the little boy, and happened to be played the day before what would have been his third birthday) and the father had a rough morning but apparently was composed the rest of the day. I don’t think I could be that strong.
This family will probably never know how they’ve affected me. I’ve realized how lucky my family is (because luck is the only way I can explain it). I now have a role model for how to be strong, or at least appear that way, when times get tough. And I have perspective to accept what we have and acknowledge that no matter how frustrating things can be, it could be far worse.
Now if I could just stop tearing up every time I think about him … (I’m sure they feel the same way).
I'm BACK!
The last year has been intensely busy so some things had to give – I stopped volunteering for Kelsie’s school (though to say I was ever an “active” volunteer might be a stretch), and I simply ran out of energy for the blog. Our camera has also had a slow and painful death, which has slowed down some of my posting as well. Excuses, excuses.
Bottom line is I like having this blog – it’s my own form of scrapbooking, it’s fun for me and sometimes cathartic – and I’ve missed it. So I’m back.
I’ll admit, another thing that has slowed me down from jumping back in is that I don’t know where to start. Almost a full year of holidays, birthdays, milestones, priceless quotes, and just everyday laughs and hassles has passed. There’s no way I can remember and report on all of it, but here’s a quick recap:
• Kelsie turned 6 – she had an all girls birthday party (plus Dylan) at a fondue restaurant where the girls enjoyed cheese, chocolate and manicures. Very fun.
• Dylan turned 3 – a boy to the extreme, he wanted a construction truck theme. We did it at Chuck E. Cheese (never again!) and instead of a cake we filled a big toy dump truck with brownies to look like dirt.
• Kelsie is about to graduate from kindergarten – she is a born student. She loves school and has tested at a 2nd grade reading level. She’s a bit of a teacher’s pet (okay, she an enormous teacher’s pet and will get her ass kicked one day), but for now it’s serving everyone well.
• Dylan is thriving at preschool, the same one Kelsie went to. They always tell us he’s the happiest kid in the school. He apparently reserves all his tantrums just for us.
• They’ve been taking gymnastics classes. Kelsie approaches it like everything else – she wants to show the teacher that she can be the first to complete the task. Grace is not her style. Dylan considers it a playground of sorts, so he wants to run and play and doesn’t like having to wait his turn or listen to his teacher. Switching to soccer soon.
• Kelsie lost her first tooth (bottom right; the tooth fairy brought $1)
• We are officially done with diapers now that Dylan decided he’s potty trained at the ripe old age of 3+ (he was the last hold-out at his school – they threw a pizza party when everyone was out of pull-ups; why are my kids late potty trainers?)
That doesn’t even scratch the surface, but I think that covers some of the big things.
Bottom line is I like having this blog – it’s my own form of scrapbooking, it’s fun for me and sometimes cathartic – and I’ve missed it. So I’m back.
I’ll admit, another thing that has slowed me down from jumping back in is that I don’t know where to start. Almost a full year of holidays, birthdays, milestones, priceless quotes, and just everyday laughs and hassles has passed. There’s no way I can remember and report on all of it, but here’s a quick recap:
• Kelsie turned 6 – she had an all girls birthday party (plus Dylan) at a fondue restaurant where the girls enjoyed cheese, chocolate and manicures. Very fun.
• Dylan turned 3 – a boy to the extreme, he wanted a construction truck theme. We did it at Chuck E. Cheese (never again!) and instead of a cake we filled a big toy dump truck with brownies to look like dirt.
• Kelsie is about to graduate from kindergarten – she is a born student. She loves school and has tested at a 2nd grade reading level. She’s a bit of a teacher’s pet (okay, she an enormous teacher’s pet and will get her ass kicked one day), but for now it’s serving everyone well.
• Dylan is thriving at preschool, the same one Kelsie went to. They always tell us he’s the happiest kid in the school. He apparently reserves all his tantrums just for us.
• They’ve been taking gymnastics classes. Kelsie approaches it like everything else – she wants to show the teacher that she can be the first to complete the task. Grace is not her style. Dylan considers it a playground of sorts, so he wants to run and play and doesn’t like having to wait his turn or listen to his teacher. Switching to soccer soon.
• Kelsie lost her first tooth (bottom right; the tooth fairy brought $1)
• We are officially done with diapers now that Dylan decided he’s potty trained at the ripe old age of 3+ (he was the last hold-out at his school – they threw a pizza party when everyone was out of pull-ups; why are my kids late potty trainers?)
That doesn’t even scratch the surface, but I think that covers some of the big things.
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