Saturday, February 25, 2012

A Conversation with the Anesthesiologist

Son #1 was getting ready to have his teeth filled by the dentist.  The anesthesiologist was asking us questions about Son #1's medical history.  Son #1 was sitting on his dad's lap quietly listening.  As the anesthesiologist recorded our answers, she turned to Son #1 and said.  "Look at what I have!  It's a red light bulb that goes on your finger."

Son #1 was skeptical and hid his finger under his armpit.  He cried out.  "I don't want THAT thing!"

The anesthesiologist smiled and said.  "Oh, this thing doesn't hurt.  It just goes on your finger so we can see your heart beat.  Look over there.  That cool machine will make noise every time your heart beats."

Son #1 was intrigued and allowed the red light bulb to go onto his finger. 

The line monitoring the heartbeat jumped up and down with a sharp staccato.  The anesthesiologist said.  "Would you look at that.  I can see your heartbeat!"

Son #1 got excited and then began to ask questions about other devices in the room.  He pointed to one after the other as the anesthesiologist patiently explained their functions.  Then he saw a strange device hanging on the wall and said.  "That one looks like something that shrinks people." 

The anesthesiologist looked confused.  "Huh?"

"Yeah!  People crawl inside the tube and then they shrink themselves."  Son #1 explained.

The anesthesiologist still did not understand.

Son #1 continued undisturbed.  "You see, it is a SHRINKAMADOODLE."

Everyone in the room roared with laughter.  The anesthesiologist left the room chuckling and spread the word about the shrinkamadoodle. 

When our nurse entered the room, she walked up to Son #1 and exclaimed.  "Now, tell me about this shrinkamadoodle.  Everyone in the office is talking about it!"

A shrinkamadoodle...I love his imagination.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Morning Madness

One morning as I was leaving for work, Son #2 awoke and began to cry.  I comforted him and changed his diaper.  I knew he wasn't hungry because he had just eaten an hour ago.  Son #2 whimpered and fussed as I placed him into our bed beside my husband.  My husband rolled over and gently hugged our baby.  It was a precious scene. 

Son #2 was pacified for a second but then began to wail.  There was nothing more I could do and I was going to be late for work, so I left with a heavy heart.  My husband patted our baby's back, hugged him, and kissed him but the wailing would not be soothed. 

As my husband lay there trying to soothe our youngest son back to sleep, an idea hit him.  He sat Son #2 up and magically the wailing stopped.  Son #2 cooed with pleasure. 

Son #2 is learning to manipulate early.  We're in trouble.

Friday, February 17, 2012

A Conversation with the Nurse

While at the doctor's office, Son #1 struck up a conversation with the nurse as she took he and his brother's height and weight. 

"And how old are you?"  the nurse asked.

"I'm five!"  yelled Son #1 in his loudest indoor voice.

"Oh, you're getting very big." the nurse commented.

The nurse had Son #1 step onto the scale.  She recorded his weight and then had Son #1 stand against the wall to measure his height. 

"Scoot your feet as close to the wall as possible." said the nurse.  "There you go!"

Son #1 pressed his feet and back against the wall obediently.

The nurse questioned him one last time.  "Do you go to school?"

"Not yet." responded Son #1.

"Why not?"  the nurse replied as she wrote her notes on the chart.

Son #1 quipped.  "I have to learn how to tie my shoes first!"

Sunday, February 12, 2012


I drive a 17 year old two-door sporty coup.  Her name is Lola and she has seen better days.  I love her, though.  She once used to have a sparkling paint job, shiny rims, low profile tires, and a sweet little sound system.  She is a relic of my younger days.

One day while running errands with my brother, she decided not to start.  Mildly annoyed, I rolled her to a parking space and phoned my husband.  He and the boys drove over to where we sat stranded.  After fiddling with various parts of the engine, my husband asked me to start the car.


"Are you putting in the clutch?"  My husband asked with irritation in his voice.

"Yes."  This is not my first time driving a standard.

(Fiddle, fiddle, whispered curse word, fiddle.)  "Start it up."  My husband commanded.

Nothing but Ozzy on the radio.

"Let me try."  He scrunched himself into my seat, turned the key, and my car roared to life.  How did he do that?!  He's a wizard.

I asked my husband and the boys to follow me on my other errand just in case Lola decided to pull a bit of monkey business.  Son #1 jumped up and down with excitement while Son #2 played with his hanging duckie nonchalantly.  To a five year old, broken cars are very exciting.

After completing the second errand, monkey business ensued.

There we sat rehashing the same "Dance of the Angry Mechanic" that had been performed at the previous errand.  Suddenly, I remembered what we used to do with George, my dad's VW Bug, whenever it would not start.  I turned to my husband and said.  "Let's push-start it."

Fast forward to this scene: 
My husband has just pushed Lola up the incline of the parking lot and is completely out of breath.  I'm giving instructions to my young boys and my brother to stay in the other car with the doors locked.  I jump into my car and my husband summons the strength to push Lola down our improvised runway.  She begins to pick up speed and I pop the clutch.  Success! 

Now that my car is running, I climb into the other car with my two sons and my brother.  Son #1 is ecstatic!  "You guys did it!  That was cool!" 

Lesson of the Day:  Buy standards.  You can always push-start them when they don't want to turn on.

Baby Talk

Son #2 babbles, gurgles, and coos constantly. 

One day, we went to the bank to set up an account.  Son #2 was fascinated with the new scenery, particularly the desk.  He began a conversation with the desk that included generous hand movements and leg gyrations. 

"Goooo, cooo, agooo, da da da da da, ba ba, wa wa wa wa."  Son #2 exclaimed as bubbles burst about his little mouth.

"Wa wa wa wa, ba ba, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!"  He screamed as his excitement grew.

The desk said nothing and continued to sit there undisturbed.

Son #2 patted the desk with his little drooly hands.  His feet kicked rapidly.  He looked up at the flustered bank officer who was struggling with the uncooperative computer paperwork and stated. "Ppppbbbbbffffffftttttt!"

A coworker quipped.  "He told you!"

Monday, February 6, 2012

A New Class

Son #1 walked into the kindergarten Sabbath school class for the first time last weekend.  The children were involved in an activity, so I helped him find a seat.  After helping him get settled, I slipped out the door and quietly rejoined my husband in the main part of the church.  We were pleased with how well Son #1 had entered his classroom.

Some time passed and we made our way downstairs to the door of the kindergarten classroom.  Various parents were lined up against the wall casually discussing their children and mutual friends.  Curious, my husband and I peaked through the window of the wooden door.  Inside, children were seated with their hands on their laps fully attending to the lesson.  Our child was seated as well, but with a vastly different demeanor.

There he was sitting in his chair with an expression only Jack Black could make.  His legs were sprinting in a runners fashion while his arms were reaching out to catch the invisible football.

Sorry Teach. 

A sense of humor is good for you. Have you ever heard of a laughing hyena with heart burn?
Bob Hope

Friday, February 3, 2012

Adventures in Eating

Son #2 is learning to eat.  He has discovered the joys of rice cereal and peas.  (Mmm...delicious)

The first time he tried rice cereal, his lips pursed into a tight little bow.  He pushed the rice cereal out of his mouth and let it dribble down his chin unsure of how to chew.  However, he was intrigued by the whole process of chewing as compared to sucking so he was determined to try again.

The next time he tried rice cereal, he opened his mouth and mimicked our chewing motions.  White, goopy rice cereal splattered across his face.  Son #2 grinned with delight.  He stuck his hands into the mess on his face, immediately put his fingers to his mouth, and then wiped them on his clean shirt.  My husband declared.  "I'm glad it's you feeding him and not me."

Many feedings later, Son #2 has mastered the art of chewing and swallowing food.  Now, he tries to grab the food off my plate while I hold him when I eat.  He still thoroughly enjoys his meals of rice cereal and peas but I'm beginning to see signs of a syndrome in infants known as "FOOD ENVY".