Desert Surprise

You thought I said, "dessert surprise," didn't you? Usually I would be talking about chocolate, I swear, but not today.

Last week, our family took a short trip to Arizona thanks to my in-laws, who graciously bought us the plane tickets, and Mike's aunt and uncle, who kindly put us up and drove us around and generally acted as amazing hosts. The main impetus for the trip was to visit Mike's great-grandparents, who had not yet met EJ. Having had a similar trip with EJ to Denver before my grandparents passed away (thanks to my parents' generosity), I was happy to have this opportunity, and understood how important it would be for all of us.

In the weeks preceding our trip, when we would speak to our in-laws, they would enthusiastically say how our vacation was coming up soon, then ask us if we were as excited as they were. The truth was, as happy as we were for the trip, we were also cognizant of the work of it---packing and unpacking, flying almost four hours both ways with a four-year old, being there only a few days without much time to adjust to the time difference, figuring out how to keep a little kid occupied in an older couple's home without toys (but with plenty of breakables), etc. It wasn't so much that we didn't think we'd have fun, especially sharing time with family, it was just that we didn't think of it particularly as a vacation, per se.

As the date approached, we had a further complication: EJ got pneumonia. Thankfully, we had a week of antibiotics (her first dose, ever) before the departure date, and it worked itself out. Even more amazingly, Mike and I didn't catch it!

Then, with a few days to go, we checked the weather report, and sure enough, a cold front was hitting Arizona the day we were arriving. Without swimming as an activity for EJ (at the least the first 3 days of our trip), we had to get even more creative about keeping her occupied.

Finally, the night before our trip, after staying up until 1:30 a.m. to pack, Mike and I were repeatedly awoken by EJ, who would run to our room and tell us about the things she needed to pack ("Don't forget my pink medicine, Mom!") or how the hooks that hold the butterflies that hang from her ceiling are "too shiny and scary." Needless to say, we got about 3 hours of sleeps, and that was fairly interrupted.

With all this going on, we boarded our plane last Wednesday morning, and set out for our adventure. When we arrived, Uncle Jim met us at the airport, and as tired as we were, as cool as it was (5 degrees cooler than Chicago, to be exact), and as long as our journey had been already, we immediately felt captivated by this place. Uncle Jim and Aunt Terri's kindness and welcoming spirit certainly played a big part in this---having wonderful relatives is such a blessing---but the truth is, we were surprised by how much we liked the Phoenix area. In a million years, a city in the desert would never occur to me as a place I would want to set up house. But within a few hours of being there---a few hours of feeling the sunshine, seeing the landscape, taking in the dusty yellow and rusty reds and sagey greens---I found myself having this conversation with my husband:

Me: "I could live here. I can't believe this, but I could really live here."

Mike: "I could live here, too."

Me: "We could live here!"

Mike: "This place is beautiful, isn't it?"

Me: "Yes, it is. If they have even one great Korean restaurant, we can put this on our list of post-grad school options."

Mike: "Right, Korean food. An Indian restaurant, too."

As the weather got warmer, and we got more time in the dry sunshine, time for a trip to the breathtaking Sedona, and time to trick-or-treat in the 75 degree weather with other families in the neighborhood, we kept repeating the refrain, "Can you believe it? We love this place!"

Should we visit in the summer to test it out? Of course. Should we strongly weigh the pros and cons before moving? Definitely. Should we establish that, yes, there are good Korean and Indian restaurants (priorities, priorities)? Certainly. But despite everything---despite our love of the East coast, our homesickness for Virginia, and our fondness for green trees and the changing of the seasons---will we be thinking through a move to the Phoenix area as a potential option? Surprise, surprise, the answer is yes.

Of course, it is possible that our attraction to Phoenix is in part a reaction to the impending winter here in Chicago. Just thinking about the dry, sunny warmth of the place---even the warmth we experienced on one of their coldest October days on record---is bolstering my spirit as it becomes colder and grayer around me. Even if we need to test out our new southwestern love a little more before we commit, I must say this: I'm turning 36 next week, and I love being reminded that I can still be thoroughly surprised by something, especially something as foreign to me as the desert. Just when I think I have it all figured out, life throws me a curveball, and it takes me to a delightful place that was never even on my radar.

Future Arizonans? Maybe!


Mom and Dad with EJ


Our Fearless Hosts, Aunt Terri and Uncle Jim


Stunning Sedona


Radiant Color for Miles


EJ as Cinderella, with Cousin, Jason, as her Prince Charming


The Whole Family, Minus Cousin Sara (Who Will be Photoshop-Added)

Quotable EJ, Now in Writing

EJ has been reading for awhile now, which continues to startle us at times, even though we should be used to it. What is new, however, is her pen-to-paper writing of letters and words. As she became more excited about letters and words, she would type them out on the computer (yes, really, I even blogged about it), or would dictate notes to us to write for her. While our days as scribes are not over yet, they may be soon, as evidenced by her recent foray into signs and cards.

The first thing that she wrote by hand, aside from her name or those of family members, was a sign that said, "Keep Out Ada"---I kid you not, the little girl put a sign up on her door to keep our dog, Ada, from getting in to eat her toys. It was so "Little Rascals" clubhouse, I laughed out loud when I saw it. I should have snapped a picture of it right away, but I didn't, and now that sign has either been destroyed or lost or repurposed---things tend to resurface in four-year old land, so it may not be gone for good.

If I find it, I will document it, but in lieu of that, here are some recent favorites:

Card for me, Outside:



Card for me, Inside:



How can you not love a card with your kid's self-portrait inside? Especially when it comes from a kid who now professes that she loves you more than Lovey (her blankie) and Spot (her little stuffed dalmatian)?

Letter for her Nana and Papa:



My parents left for their place in Florida last week, and EJ woke up absolutely inconsolable about missing them a few days later. She woke me up to ask me what their address was, and I told her it was on a magnet on the fridge. By the time I had crawled out of bed, she had completed this letter for them (and their dog, Wilbur, of course), along with all the numbers from the magnet---house number, zip code, and phone numbers, all mushed together.

Imaginary friend birthday party decorations:



Throwing imaginary parties for her imaginary friends is a big deal to her, and after she made a list of all the decorations she would need, she made these balloons and sign, then hung them on the wall. I did help her on this one---I spelled balloon aloud, then she wrote it out, I gave her tape, and I told her that, no, I would not blow up actual balloons, so she should just draw some and it would work out just fine.

Directions for the microwave:



We've got a nasty cold here, and I had the worst of it today. To feel better, I pulled out a wonderful heat wrap that I bought from my yoga instructor ages ago and warmed it up in the microwave. EJ was intrigued when she saw me wearing it, but concerned later when she saw me go to reheat it. Exact quote: "Mom, you can't put hats in the microwave to dry them!" Hmmm....interesting. Within the two minutes it took for my flannel heat wrap to get cozy warm, the kiddo ran to her table, crafted this sign, grabbed a sticker (since I wasn't free to give her tape), and posted this under the microwave. "See, Mom, this microwave is for FOOD. FOOD ONLE (i.e., ONLY). You can put your clothes in the oven if you need to heat them, okay?"

Dry Run-Away

On behalf of all the mommies and daddies and grandparents and caregivers out there---all those folks who love and watch over little children and enjoy taking them out and about to child-friendly destinations---I make the following appeal to the decision makers at said places:

Stop Installing Earth-Saving, BUT CHILD-TERRIFYING, Hand Dryers in Your Restrooms

It feels like every season, the restrooms at yet another of our favorite places is refurbished into what my daughter would call, through her sobs and her wailing and her tugging away trying to run away as fast as she can, "a very, scary, too-loud bathroom."

Yes, I've read the wall signs that describe how we are reducing paper waste and saving energy by sticking our hands into your hand dryer that a) is never placed, shaped, or configured in a way that is convenient for a small child to use and b) makes a jet engine sound soft (case in point: my daughter is not afraid of the sound of jet engines), and finally, c) will not allow the user to cover their ears to avoid being deafened because they have to stick those hands into this crazy, loud machine. No, I don't want the earth depleted of its natural resources, and I bet that once my kid gets a little older, she won't either. Unfortunately, environmental guilt will not comfort my child as she is shaking like a leaf---a leaf we are NOT saving---and too terrified to use the bathroom.

Adult offices, knock yourself out. Install hand dryers that require those noise-reducing headsets that folks on the tarmac use while guiding in planes. But at the aquarium? The grocery store? The park? The movie theater? Really, cut us a small break.

Now, I will concede, EJ has always been afraid of loud noises, and she isn't keen on the regular, quieter hand dryers either. Her first question when we go somewhere new is, "Do the bathrooms here have dryers, or quiet paper towels?" She may be more sensitive than most, I grant you. But when I am 30 feet from the door of a bathroom at a child-centered venue, and I can hear the dryers screaming and whooshing from there, I'll tell you what else I notice---small huddles comprised of reluctant, terrified children and exasperated, cajoling parents in a struggle to see if the kiddos can make it into the restroom, past the evil dryers, and to a stall before an inevitable accident occurs.

I have had folks say, "Well, kids have to get used to scary things, to work through their fears, to face what is difficult, blah blah blah..." Yep, that is true. We do a lot of that. But I think that I can safely say, and many other parents will agree, that there is a difference between a worry or anxiety that you can help a child to work through by "toughing it out," and something that invokes terror in a child. I'm talking about terror, no exaggeration necessary. I don't think it is my job, as EJ's mom, to do terror-aversion therapy in a public bathroom, but I am given no choice when she has gone hours and hours without a bathroom break. It is just awful for all of us.

I believe even Mother Earth, who we are trying to save, thinks that these dryers are ridiculous.

So for those places out there who cater to children and are considering this change, I beg you, please think it through. You really don't want kids to remember your venue as the place with "cool exhibits, tantrum-inducing bathrooms." You REALLY don't want parents to think that, either. Trust me.

And for those that have already installed them, let me say this: don't expect us to stay more than two hours, and don't expect us to pay an admission that might be reasonable for a longer stay, but makes two hours seem like a complete waste. Sorry about that. Earth saved, admission price, not so much.

Now, don't even get me started on the automatic sinks and soap dispensers...

Bagel, Ooh-La-La

I am feeling a bit under the weather today---either bad allergies or a cold---so my sweet husband took care of EJ while I slept in. He wakes up very early in order to get to the lab, and often, the kiddo wakes up with him. Many days he lets me sleep while he gets EJ breakfast, finds clothes, answers her 150 questions, etc. It's very nice, but especially nice on days like today when I'm not feeling 100%

I got this email from Mike this morning, with a report from breakfast. I told him it was going straight to the blog, since this little anecdote is a keeper. Here it is, in Mike's words:

This morning, as with many mornings, I asked EJ what she wanted
for breakfast.

She said, "I want this, with Nu-tell-a!", pulling the English muffins
out of the fridge.

For fun, I asked her what the English muffins were, thinking she'd be
able to read them off the package. In hindsight, the labeling is not
very good on the English muffins package.

After thinking for a few minutes, she said, "French bagels."

August, the Longest Month

August, formerly classified in my brain as "hot/humid month, lots of angry yellow jackets" has now been moved to a new file, marked "warmish month, long days of no camp/no preschool, not one moment of continuous thought without interruption from small child, fun nonetheless."

Oh, and there are still angry yellow jackets. They were swarming our car the other day when we went peach picking (sure, we WERE at an orchard, but I don't like being an active part of the "sweet-to-meat" transition for these little stingers.)

My Achilles heal as a parent is making daily plans---figuring out activities, getting us out of the house, contacting people for playdates, etc. I am just AWFUL at it. I'm getting better, sure, but really, this is not my forte. This weakness has made August with a very precocious four-year old at times, well, LONG. We've cobbled together some fun, though, at least enough to ward off boredom and keep us sane. I consider that great success.

Our month kicked off with the anniversary triad on "August Eve"---Mike and I celebrated 10 years of marriage on July 31st, my parents celebrated 39 on August 1st, and Mike's parents had their 40th on the 2nd. Three days, 89 years of marriage among us. Mom and Dad watched EJ on our anniversary so Mike and I could have the whole day together, and it was great---we went to a matinee, had frozen yogurt at the hip place we'd never tried, enjoyed an early dinner of Korean food at one of our favorite restaurants---simply perfect. On their anniversary, we met them in Beloit for an Andreoli family reunion, where EJ promptly fell in love with my cousin's son, and the two of them began planning their wedding sometime between the playground and their paddle boat ride. Must have been all that anniversary mojo in the air. The next day, we headed up to dinner in Evanston to celebrate with Mike's parents.

Then (July 31, 1999)...



...and now (wearing the same pearls he gave me on the eve of our wedding)



Our Wedding Covenant (Must be working---check out Mike's calligraphy, and signatures from everyone who attended our ceremony and reception)



Young Love, Family Picnic-Style



Happy 40th Anniversary, Grandma and Grandpa



The family reunion wasn't our only weekend away this month---we have been out of town every weekend of August. Two weekends in a row, we traveled up to Kenosha to have a rummage sale at my parents' place, hoping to sell off all the baby clothes and items that we sorted through and hauled out of our condo earlier this summer. The sale was a bust, really, but we packed everything up, and will try again in the spring. Our second weekend up in K-town, we checked out their dinosaur museum, which is housed in the old Kenosha Museum building, where I spent many happy childhood moments when my aunt was active there. Even though we now live in a big city with big, fabulous museums, I think that the dinosaur dig, puzzle, and drawing area in this museum's basement charmed EJ as much as anything we've seen in Chicago.

Pink Goggles On, Brush in Hand



Uncovering the Fossil



Proud of her Pieced-Together Dinosaurs



It hasn't been a particularly beachy August, but we did manage to make it to Lake Michigan as a family one sunny afternoon. EJ had a great time running through the fountain at the 63rd Street Beach, but as there was a red flag at that location that afternoon (lesson learned: the Chicago Parks internet site is not up-to-date on beach closings), she couldn't enjoy the waves until we packed up and moved to South Shore Beach, just a few minutes away.

Skipping Through the Fountains



Sunny Smiles



Who Cares About the Swim Ban? (aka, This Fountain Is Awesome)



Building Sandcastles with Daddy



Finally, this past weekend, we were able to visit our cousins in Ann Arbor, and just had a fantastic time. On Sunday, my cousin's daughter turned three, so everyone came over for a party. EJ loved playing with her, and it was such a treat to see everyone and their kids. Our whole time there was filled with great company, great conversation, great food---our family is amazing, plain and simple. We spent Monday at Greenfield Village, where EJ got to ride on the historic carousel. On our way home, Tuesday, we stopped at an orchard (aka, Yellow Jacket Central), and picked some peaches.

Carousel Ride with the Cousins



Catch the Brass Ring



There is Cobbler in My Future



I'm so grateful that we have had things to do and relatives to visit to keep this month moving along, because without them, I wouldn't have enough recharge to tackle the two+ weeks left until preschool begins again. As long as the days seem, though, EJ certainly comes up with things to do when I run out of inspiration. Check out her present for me yesterday:

Blue Band-Aid on Head, Smiley Face on Floor



The band-aid was purely decorative. The smiley face was pure sweetness, made by a kid who said, "I made if for you, because you make me so happy."

Maybe August isn't that long of a month...

Awake

Long time, no updates. We've had some wonky DSL issues at the house which have made posting challenging, but more importantly, we have been out soaking in the summer and enjoying ourselves. I'm more awake and ready-to-go than I have been in years, and I have one thing to thank for this remarkable change: thyroid medicine.

As I posted previously, after years of testing low-normal, my body finally launched a full-scale assault on my thyroid that put my blood test results into the danger zone. I was told that it would take at least six weeks of medication to really feel any difference, but I would say that two weeks in I was waking up a little easier, three weeks in I could tell that my mood was much more steady and my body was less achy, and by one month, I was feeling like a new person. I'm six weeks out now, and I barely recognize the person I was before the medication. It is some kind of miracle---there is no other word for it.

A lot of people told me that, after I finished my masters, the time I used for studying would fill in with home stuff, and I'd wonder how I ever got through school in the first place. I guess I have felt some of that, but truthfully, the bigger question I now ask is, "How did I ever function with that sluggish thyroid?" To describe the level of fatigue, soreness, moodiness, dry skin---I could go on and on---would be impossible, because I didn't even realize how out-of-whack that state of being was until it finally ended. Really, how did I function? My poor family---I must have been a gem to be around sometimes, walking around like a zombie. Bless them for sticking it out.

Mike and I celebrated our tenth anniversary on July 31st, and as we talked about my new, awake, steadier self, my husband said, "I feel like I just got back the person I married. You are yourself again." I don't think there is better testimony than that for the power of thyroid medication, except to say that I feel like that person, too, and I really missed her.

Broken Feelings

As EJ told her teacher at camp this morning, "I had a rough morning already, Miss Laura." I didn't disagree. Sometimes, it is just tough being four, which means it is also tough being a four year old's mom.

Despite my status as hero last night when I let her go to bed in her new Tinkerbell dress-up outfit (snuggled with her Build-a-Bear bunny rabbit dressed in a matching Tinkerbell outfit, of course), I quickly fell from grace this morning when I insisted that she wear an adorable blue swimsuit to school instead of her adorable pink swimsuit. Maybe I'm just unreasonable, but when a suit has been worn two days in a row to camp, and has come home so dirty with sand and mud that it is no longer technically pink, I think it is time to pick a new suit for the day.

Did I not realize that she LOVES PINK and now HATES BLUE? Yes, she HATES it. She's been playing with the word "hate" a lot, and I have been spending a good amount of time trying to extinguish it. It is exhausting, and if I could say "I HATE trying to teach you not to say HATE!" without modeling that word, I would.

Then, to add to her dissatisfaction with my mothering---have I mentioned that when she gets upset she calls me MOTHER, as in "Yes, MOTHER, I will put on my pajamas."---I made her pick up all of her brand new Barbie clothes and accessories before she was allowed to leave for camp. She went from zero Barbies to three this birthday, and we now spend hours every day dressing and redressing these dolls. So, as she picked up tiny, tiny boots and tiny, tiny swimsuits and tiny, tiny purses, she muttered to herself how frustrated she was at her MOTHER.

Sigh.

I had to discipline her for talking back. I had to discipline her for not doing what she was told. I had to discipline her for acting out. It was a rotten start for both of us.

By the end, she was just sobbing. She threw herself into my arms and said, "Mom, you have broken my feelings! They are just breaking, I am so sad and mad at you." As frustrated as I was with all of her behavior, I was so glad that she could tell me how she was feeling, and come to me for comfort. I hugged her and held her, we did some big, deep breaths together, and as she calmed down, she declared what I always remind her: "Even when I'm mad, I still love you." I told her I always love her, too, and we packed up for camp, 30 minutes late, but no longer teetering on the edge of an emotional cliff.

When I took her out of the car, she said, "Mom, I am still a little upset, but I love you a lot." Good enough.

I can't say I'm not stealing myself for our afternoon together---I leave in a few minutes to pick her up from camp---but a plan to make zucchini muffins together will hopefully be enough to sail us through peacefully, at least until her daddy gets home from work. "Four years old" is going to be an interesting year.