Saturday, February 28, 2009

slumpy. . .


Poor little boy in the backseat. . .
weary from a crazy night. . . his first (can we wish only) trip to the emergency room . . .
scared. . . and voicing his pain. . . his impatience with people who didn't understand. . . or feel. . . a strange place full of strange people. . .
cries. . . and no!. . .
we survived Lukey's first emergency room drama. . . thankful for the kind people who brought us to the back right away. . .ahead of people who had been waiting hours. . . and seen right away. . .to find an ear infection in one ear. . .
kindness. . .gentleness. . .helping him with an ease flustered parents grope at. . .

thankful to be at home among his family and cherished boy things. . . resting easy and healing. . .

Friday, February 27, 2009

so. . .


Sam took Max for his morning walk 5 amish yesterday. And somewhere around six, a smell woke me. . . And I walked towards the steps, trying to find out what it was.

It smelled strongly as I walked down the steps. . . And, in my sleepy mind I figured the skunks were up earlier than I was. . .

I walked to the front door to see if Sam and Max were still outside. . . And screams emerged from the kitchen. Don't open the door! Don't open the door

Ahmmmm...... Never a good sign. . .

So, it happened again. Worse than before.

And the poor. . .forlorn. . .and stupid. . . dog was banished to the outside.

Since no pet stores are open at the bright hour of 6 am, we debated running to Walmart for tomato juice. . . And Sam suggested the canned tomatoes in the basement.

Well. . .


That's what we used. Canned tomatoes. First the juice. . . and then Sam just rubbed the tomatoes into his fur.
Then we washed him in Jack's shampoo. . .because I just couldn't use my Pantene on him. . . So, he smelled of tomatoes. . .blueberries. . .and skunk.



So, it's not as bad. But I ran to the pet store for some kind of skunk shampoo. One that the girl assured me would eliminate the smell. . .until he gets wet again.


Hmmm.....

handsome. . .

This morning as I made breakfast. . .hurrying about a Friday morning. . .dreaming of the weekend, and finding what I might put in Jack's lunchbox. . . I hear that little voice at the top of the stairs, mama. . .

He asks if he can wear something different to school. Sure, wear what you like.

And again, the voice two minutes later. . . mama. . . I want to wear something handsome.

My interest piqued, I join him upstairs. Pulling out some long sleeve dress shirts, and walking to the drawer for some long sleeve polo shirts. . . No, I know what I want to wear. I want to wear a tie.

A tie?

So we go on a frantic tie hunt. Not in the bottom drawer with socks and such. Not on the closet shelves. Not in the drawer under the bed. Back to the bottom dresser drawer. Nope, still not there. Hmmm.... And in the little toy drawers next to the dresser. . .in the little dress upish, hats and such box, there it is. The Buzz Lightyear tie. Along with the sweet Easter tie from two Easters ago (and no shirt to really match it. . .this was the little tie he wore when he was pretending to be a police officer for a while. . . a handsome police officer, I suppose). . .

And he dresses, smiling.



Why the tie?

I don't want to tell you.

But you can tell me anything.

But it feels funny.. . .. . ...

You want to look nice for Tia? (the little girl he begged and pleaded to call on the telephone last night. . .and the Mama in me just wasn't ready for that yet).




He nodded.

He chatted happily during his quick breakfast (the tie hunt ate up most of the morning). Telling me how handsome the tie made him. And that he would be even more handsome with a lightsaber (of course). And that all of the bad guys would just fall over from his handsomeness.


I never realized how much being handsome did for a guy.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

oops. . . he did it again. . .


Really?
More details tomorrow. . . when the stink settles. . .

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

happy my belly, mama

Lukey came down with the stomach flu portion of that bug going around yesterday. . . and last night. . . all night. . . Until every blanket in the house was waiting in the basement to be washed. . . at 3 am. . . And Mama had yet to let her head hit the pillow. . .

The two of us slept in the living room. . . Lukey on the couch. . . Mama in a sleeping bag on the floor. Sleeping bag #2, that is. Sleeping bag #1 was christened by Bella. That would be the warmer sleeping bag. The thicker, plumpier, comfier one. . .

And then Mama's jammies. . . the warm fleecy guys I ordered for Christmas eve. . . the ones that would keep me warm while I slept on the living room floor. . . Well, they ended up down in the basement in front of the washer too. . .

The good news is that he is feeling much better this morning. Woke up with a scream at 7 am (as I stumbled, entangled in sleeping bag #2, grabbing for the little white bucket). Apple juuuice! I need apple juice!

I asked him how he was feeling, and he proclaimed himself better. I happy. Happy my belly, Mama.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Bella


Thursday last week that storm came through. The one that knocked out the power all around. And knocked out the power in Sam's building. He called me while I was getting Jack ready for school to tell me that he had arrived at work to no power. No telephone service either.

I called later in the morning to find out no power still. He was teleconferencing on the cell phone. And, at 10 am they sent everyone out for 2 hours while they worked at getting everything up and running.

And then at lunchtime he came home.

So sweet to have him home during the day. Lukey and I loved his company. And although we wanted to do something to celebrate, we decided to wait for Jack (who was still in school).

After Jack got home and we had some dinner, Sam thought it might be fun to go bowling. Haven't gone out bowling since we were dating. So we packed up the boys and headed into Greensburg. And the bowling lot was pretty empty. And so was the alley. . . But we found out that, of course, it was league night. And that there were no available lanes until 8:30. . . Disappointed. . .

We headed back to the Jeep to search out another bowling alley. . . And as we left the parking lot, Sam suggested we head up to the Humane Society. It wasn't too far away. . . Just to look.

Love looking at the puppies. We had peeked online, and saw they had golden retriever mixes. Too big for us. Wanted someone a little smaller this time (maybe lap size?).

We arrived just as the shelter was opening at 6 pm. Just as we did with Max. Because they had told us (when we were waiting for his litter of 12 to become available) that puppies go fast. People wait for the shelter to open just to get the puppies. . .

And when we walked in, there they were. . . Three little all black dachshunds. . .

And my heart jumped.

When Sam and I were dreamy-eyed dating. . . Dreaming of our future. . . [Have I told you on our first date I told him we would get married? No? Another story for another day. . .]. . . We knew we would have a dog. But, me, who wanted a house full of love (and obviously noise), wanted not just a dog, but a pack of dogs. A pack of dachshunds. Those cute little brown dogs full of energy and cute. That would run en mass to the door when Sam got home from work and jump all over him.

And Sam would give me that really? look. Grin his crooked grin. And tell me sure. But only if he got one all to himself. That he would paint a racing strip down it's back (either green or purple, I can't remember). And he would call him Izzy.

I was elated to see our dream puppies. And as Sam and the boys headed down the rest of the shelter hallway, I stayed to peek at them.

Two of them came up to the fence right away. The little boy and the little girl. The last girl stayed behind, stretching lazily from her nap. Getting up reluctantly to give a sniff before she went back to her warm spot to sleep. The little boy sniffed at me, tail wagging. As did the little girl. She jumped down from their little bed and ran to the cage door, wagging her tail. Ready to come out. Waiting.

Sam came back with Jack and Luke.

They're dachshunds. I said.

Do you want to see one? He asked me. That little grin at the corner of his mouth and his words.

Nodding. And I pointed to the little girl at the door. Her.

And we went back to the room where we first met our Max. With the sweet little black puppy. Who eagerly explored the room. The shelter worker told us that they had just become available last night and hadn't gotten their pictures up yet online because the storm had knocked out the power to the shelter director's home.

Fate. Divine intervention.

Not sure. But I think she was meant to be ours.

She gave eager kisses to all of our hands. And climbed into my lap.


I didn't expect to take her home. I just wanted to see her. To hold a puppy again. But she came home with us.


We decided right away at the shelter to name her Isabella. Sam could call her Izzy. And she would be my Bella.

Jack's world. . .


This week I found him sitting by the radiator, ear close. . .


? ? ? ?


I hear the bug people in the radiator. They're playing music.


And then he proceeded to give me a rendition of the little ditty he was hearing. . . So sweet. And so glad to know there are bug people living here in the Zeli house.


Oh, and that his toys are alive. [Apparently the toys and the bug people must be the ones who are making the extra laundry, hiding my lens cap, and leaving the extra clutter under my toes]. . . Anytime something is not where he remembers it (usually the odd clone trooper), he's convinced they moved themselves. Yesterday, for example, the clone trooper he's certain he left on the coffee table, ended up under the chair. Hiding. Yep.


So cute. I remember when I was little convinced there were little people in the tv who made the up all those stories I watched (which is why, I suppose, I used to kiss the screen every time Mr. Rogers came on. . .). Not to be confused with the bug people. Not sure where they come from. . .

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

going to school. . .


Yesterday, while getting Jack ready to go out the door and on the bus (how is it that we are always running behind?). . . I told Luke that he would be getting ready next to go to school. . .


Yes. I go to school. I ride my bus. I get my backpack.


And was so terribly (and loudly) disappointed that he would not be riding Jack's bus. . . or any bus. . . that buses don't go to Miss Lynn's school . . .


I not go in my car. I go in my bus.


Over and over and over. . .


But, after getting Jack to the bus (and Luke waiting, face pressed against the glass door), he was happy to wear his little backpack around the house (and to school) instead. And wore it all day long, quite happily. He made sure to pack it with his new buddy James. And a star that he cut out and colored in school.


Maybe he is more ready for school than I thought. . .

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Friday, February 13, 2009

and the baby boy dog said. . .

Somebody's been sleeping in my bed. . . .

and there she is. . . .







to be continued. . .




Wednesday, February 11, 2009

a quiet evening. . .

Hanging out on a Tuesday night. . . very low key. . .

Best moments: Mama and Dada. . . just laying upstairs on the big bed. . . watching tv. . . snuggled under the blankets. . . eating Cwunch (ala the Captain) and popcorn. . . listening to the happy chatter of Luke (who loves to bounce no matter where he may be). . . and talking about this and that and the world with Jack. . .

Monday, February 9, 2009

mail delivery according to jack. . .


Before they had mail men, the wind would take the letters where they needed to go.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

mr. stinkopotomous

Friday night in the Zeli household. . .

The end of a busy school/work week. . .

Time to relax. . . maybe order pizza (not tonight, we had chicken scampi). . . . play Legos. . . maybe read. . . watch Clone Wars at 9 pm. . .

But not tonight.

Tonight we gave Maxie a bath. Why? He was playing outside. Maybe the second to last out for the night pee break.

And when I heard Sam say Houston, we have a problem. I figured he ran down the street after a dog. Ran up in the woods to play with a cat.

Oh, he was playing with a cat, all right.

A polecat.


And the smell. Oh my gosh the smell. Hijack my senses, turn my lungs inside out. . . Dizzy. . . Nauseous. Dying.

The whole house smells. I can feel it in my skin. In my hair.

And it won't go away.

Candles. Fresh air. Lysol.

We spent our Friday evening giving Max a bath. Lathered over and over. . . And his head still smells.


And, poor him. He felt so bad. Lowered head. Baby doll eyes: big and shiny. . . Enough to make you feel sorry for him. . . almost. . . Until you smelled the smell.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

the first dance. . .


Planning for our wedding was fun. . . delightful . . . and incredibly painful. . .
You know how you want this to be the perfect day. . . Not in the Bridezilla sort of way. . . But in the I really want to celebrate with the world how much I love you. . . . I want the bells to ring in the highest tower so the whole world can feel our love. . .
But somehow, the parents. . . the cost. . . the jitters of everyone around you. . . try to steal that joy away. . .
I was determined, however, that no matter what happened, that this would be the happiest day of my life so far. No matter what happened. Because it was our first day together as our little family. Just us.
Loved that sound of that.
But, I did lots of daydreaming in the months and weeks and days leading up to September 18. . . Not about my dress. . .
or the flowers.. . .
or the look in Sam's eyes as I walked down the aisle. . .
or the vows. . .
I dreamed about our first dance. To our song. Just us. The whole world disappearing. I could hear the music in my head. I could feel his arms holding me tight.
And still, when we dance, I always remember that first dance at our wedding. That moment when time stood still, and we were the only ones in the the whole world. . .
And last night, after our crazy stretching and dancing and doctor cures. . . Sam put on a quiet song. . . just for us. . . so that we could dance close. . . [which, amid little boy chaos, we haven't done in such a long time]
And we danced. . . And I could feel the remembering. . . .
And then a little boy hand woke me up. . . And in all the years and months that I spent dreaming before our wedding. . . I never dreamed of the day when we would dance with our sweet little sons. . .
And the littlest one bounded in and out: Hey you guys! I love you too!
More beautiful than I could have ever imagined. . .

oh no! you have the blizzer. . .


Dry winter air. . . and little Luke's nose got a nosebleed yesterday. . . which he found (big surprise) to be quite traumatic. We sat on the couch for about 30 minutes trying to get it to stop. . . At first he hated the paper towel on his nose (how is it that the box of Kleenax always disappers when you need it?). . . and then he wouldn't sit without it. . .


And then suddenly announced: All done!


And he was.


Later in the evening, we were listening to music. . . stretching. . . bouncing, and jumping around. . . When Luke decided that he needed my socks. ??? And immediately put them on his hands. I put my mittens on.


Then he thought maybe Mama needed a haircut. And he pushed his little socked hands through my hair. I get my blue scissors. [Yeah, so the whole cutting lesson wasn't the best idea.] And we told him that was only Miss Kristen's job. [whew!]


So he pulled at my hair a little more. And then announced: Oh no, Mama. You sick. You have the blizzer. Immediately putting the little sock hands in my nose.


All night long I seemed to have an untreatable case of the blizzers.


Thank goodness Dr. Luke and his black surgical socks were around to care for me.

hut. . .hut. . .hike!

What an exciting Super Bowl. . . But, the best part had to be the half time show. Nope, we're the boys and I weren't rockin to Bruce Springsteen. . . We. . .as requested by Jack. . .played a little football. . .

And when we couldn't find a football, we substituted (or improvised, as Jack would say) a blue skein of yarn.
Hence, The Yarn Bowl was created.
Hut. . . .
Hut. . . .

Hike!

Sunday, February 1, 2009

moxie morning. . .


Paws up on the little chair. . . whining out the kitchen window. . .


He loves to watch the squirrels and birds and deer. . . wishing to go out so they could all play together. . .


the wildlife, however, do not view him so much as a playmate, much to his dismay. . .


Oh, and there's the feral cats that roam the woods. . .


So, I peered out the window, looking for his lost playmates. . .


and not seeing them . . .


"Poor Moxie. . ." and I continued on with my morning work. . .


He continued to watch a little longer. And then I hear his nails hit the kitchen floor. . . And he trotted out to me in the entry. . . with my plum in his mouth. The one that I bought at the store last night. . . along with some pears and apples and peaches. . . I sat it and a pear on the windowsill, hoping they would ripen . . .sweeten. . . and Moxie saw it as a ball for a puppy. . .


Yeah, not quite.


He unhappily relinquished it, so that it could be thoroughly washed and returned to a higher windowsill. . .