Dear Cash - THREE FREAKING YEARS!

Dear Cash,

How can I summarize three years (or even just this past year) in a letter?  I can't. 

It's impossible to put in to words how you have changed my life (aside from the sleepless nights and a couple extra pounds), but I wrote you this little poem (set to Twas The Night Before Christmas). 

Twas the night before your birthday, when all through our home,
I was stirring with "gas pains", and boy did I moan.
The bag was not packed - I needed to prepare,
I expected more warning before you'd be there.
The animals were all nestled, all snug in our bed
While I denied labor and ate Chuy's instead.
And me in my bathrobe and daddy in his cap,
Couldn't settle down because it hurt like crap.
When into the shower, I ran with a scream,
I'd just done some pooping and needed to clean.
Away to the dresser I flew with a limp,
Tore open the drawers and packed like a wimp.
The moon was half full, but heck, did I care?
I grabbed a pillow for my head and a brush for my hair. 
When, what would my watering eyes should appear
Buttin in his truck, was shifting into gear.
With a man driver, so dangerous and fast,
Buttin got me to the hospital by slamming on the gas.
At the hospital my nurse made some suggestions,
and then started asking me bazillions of questions.
Now weight? Now height? Now strep b test?
Now pee in this cup and get undressed!
The room started to flurry with busy nurses and such,
I screamed the word "peace", but didn't want to be touched.
And then with a sudden feeling of fear,
I asked for marijuana, some drugs or a beer.
Sweet doula and your daddy suggested a shower,
They knew I could do it - my spirit they could empower.
So across to the shower, I shuffled in pain,
My water broke and it went down the drain.
I spent nary a minute when I exclaimed with no doubt,
"I've got to push - this baby is ready to come out!"
So pushing I started, couldn't wait to meet you.
The pushing felt like I was taking a poo.
We were making progress with nary a glitch,
Then in walked the doctor, she was Dr. Bitch.
You were almost there,  excitement grew in the room.
I was tired and wanted you out of my womb.
One more push and I was filled with great joy,
Dr. Bitch said blandly, "here - it's a boy."
You were immediately perfect, but I was lacking cleanness
To my great surprise - you had a penis.  
You were skinny and long, a right happy young child
And I swear when you farted, I could see that you smiled.
After all the commotion ended and everyone went home
You and I got to spend some time alone.
I will always remember our first night together
as we slept cuddled up in the cool spring weather. 
I whispered in your ear as you slept next to me,
Happy Birthday sweet Cash, I love you baby.

Here are a few things I started two years ago: 

Favorite Color:  Whatever the color is of the train you are currently holding.

Favorite Word: Trains

Favorite Food: Donuts

Favorite Thing To Do: Play the motorcycle game on your iPad. 

Last time you cried:  You frequently throw toddler fits, but the last time you really cried is probably when you were sick a couple of weeks ago. 

Last time you smiled:  You're always smiling, unless you're throwing a toddler fit.

What I think you'll be when you grow up: Donut maker or politician

Here are a few things I started last year: 

Nicknames: Turd and Cashman

Favorite Song: Accidents Happen (this is a Thomas the Train song, but could also apply to your (lack of) toilet usage)

Favorite Book :  One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish

Here are a few new things for this year:

Your best friend:  Desmond (or me - boy's best friend is his mother)

One word to describe your personality:  Clever 

What you think of your brother:  He needs to be poked in the eye, frequently and he should also be awake.  

We love you so much Cash.  Please be sweet to me, your dad and your brother and please don't grow up too quickly.

Love,

Mom

Dear Mac - 3 Months

Dear Chicky,

I always start out my letters by saying "I can't believe how fast time goes . . ."  It's not clever or creative, but it's true.

Unlike your brother's pre-birth name, Lumpy, your name, Chicken (and it's many variations) has stuck.  This weekend, Mormor was with your brother and they had the following conversation:

Mormor:  Cash, what is your brother's name?

Cash:  Chicken

Mormor:  What's his real name?

Cash:  Mac Chicken

Oh well chicky-baby, at least it's better than your brother's predominate nickname, Turd. 

You are a sweet, chunky and smiley 3-month-old.  Did I mention chunky?  I don't really want this to become your defining characteristic, but seriously, you are a healthy, thriving baby.  I actually had to buy you a new foam baby seat because the Bumbo cuts off the circulation in your legs and your feet were turning bluish/purple (although, you really didn't seem to mind). 

You still sleep in our bed and although it's not always comfortable; I enjoy the closeness and I think we both sleep a lot better.

I'm in no hurry for you to grow up, but I'm looking forward to the development of your personality.  Your father and I like to speculate on how you will act when you are two or three years old.  Will you be brave like your brother?  Will you be sensitive like your mother?  Will you be funny like your father? Will you be forever chunky like the Pillsbury Dough Boy?  Only time will tell and time can take it's time.

I love you forever and ever.  Please be sweet to me, your dad and your brother and please don't grow up too quickly. 

Mom 

Little Hiatus

My blog is taking a little hiatus, kind of.

Right now, it's just too difficult to write a daily post (but I will still write from time to time).

Now, I have Facebook page dedicated to daily pictures and mini-posts.  You can visit me here.

Misfit Monday

It's Spring Break!

This means that quite a few of our misfits are out of the office.  That means the remaining misfits are very busy and so I won't make fun of them. 

One quick funny story.  The following is a phone conversation between me and one of our cleaning misfits.   A customer who he had done a clean for the day before was calling him.

Misfit:  I think that someone gave out my phone number to one of our customers, could you please not give out my phone number?

Me:  We did not give out your phone number.  Did you happen to call her when you were on the way to her house?

Misfit:  Well, yeah.

Me:  So, she probably has your phone number on her caller id.  

Misfit:  Oh yeah.  That's probably how she got it.

Silly misfit.

Here is a picture Mac trying to steal (or maybe just look at) Buttin's phone.

The Bug Collector

It was a little chilly this morning, but Cub wanted to go outside.  I dressed him in his Sunday finest (footie pjs, fuzzy crocs and a jacket).

Cub wanted to find and collect rolli pollies. He's quite the scientist. 

This afternoon, I found his baggie of rolli pollies and decided to set them free.  About five minutes later, he wanted his rolli pollies.

Here is Mac smiling at a cute baby (a mirror).

Snuggles

Filanthropy Friday

Two charities in one week!  I'm totally becoming Bill Gates. 

During my past few runs (small jogs), I've been listening to This American Life's two part story on Harper High School in Chicago.  

Stories about kids in difficult situations and the teachers who try to help them really get to me.  This broadcast follows the children (really, teenagers), their parents and teachers as they try to survive (literally) during a five month period last year in one Chicago's most violent neighborhoods.  All the stories are thoroughly engrossing.  

The principal of the school has a greeting that she says in the halls - "I appreciate you in advance!".  I love the sentiment because many of these kids are not appreciated or their appreciation is conditional.  I'm going to try to appreciate  more people in advance - even though the misfits sometimes make it difficult.

In one of the segments the producers discussed Harper as a "turnaround" school.  The past few years, Harper High School has received additional funding that has gradually decreased as the school has made progress.  However, next year they will not receive any turnaround money - essentially, their turnaround period is over and I guess they should be cured.   It's really amazing what $1 million can do at a school.  This week I donated $15 to Harper High School.