Back to School

Oscar started second grade last week and Lily started kindergarten today. Phil said he thought I would be lonely and I asked him if he was kidding.

Well, alright I am a little lonely.

Lily said last night after kindergarten back-to-school night, "I think kindergarten is going to be a lot of fun!"

Me too, Girl. But I sure will miss you.

'Cuff Him

Maybe it's all The Cosby Show reruns I've been watching, but sometimes our life feels a lot like a sitcom, only without the canned laughter.

It started innocently enough with a bag of old toys from a neighbor, and in that bag there was a pair of handcuffs, only without a key. Lest you think it was one of the children who became stuck in the handcuffs, think again.

While I'm trying to get dinner on (late) and everyone is hungry, tired and whiney, Phil yells from Lily's bedroom, "Where are the keys to these things?" My heart sort of skips a beat because I know what's happened.

I rush in there. "Phil! There are no keys! It came without keys!"

"Who gives someone a pair of handcuffs without keys?!"

"I don't know!"

Panic sets in. "I have to get them off NOW! They're starting to cut off my circulation!" He starts pulling at them frantically. "I'll break them off!"

"With what?" I ask.

"A hammer!"

I am the voice of reason. "You will break your hand. Calm down, just calm down. If they were really cutting off your circulation, your hand would be turning blue."

He gets crazy eyes and says something about how I have no idea what kind of pain he's in.

I might have said something about how childbirth is pretty painful, but he wasn't really interested.

After three different youtube tutorials on "how to get out of handcuffs without a key" (which Phil incidentally said are no good) and about two hours later the handcuffs were off.

Phil says if he's ever in handcuffs again, at least now he knows how to get out of them. I just hope I'm not around to see it.

A Rose by Any Other Name

Lily had a friend over this morning and I listened in on their conversation as they were going down the stairs:

Hannah: ...like Hannah Montana.
Lily: I don't mean to make you feel bad, I really don't, but everyone says my name is awesome. I don't think it's that awesome, but everyone says it is.

Awesome.

Summer Lovin'

Two friends and I (12 kids between the three of us) took the whole group to IKEA today to take advantage of their "kids eat free" deal. The trip was fun and mostly uneventful, aside from Henry pushing the emergency button in the elevator. But for me, the real fun began on the trip home in rush hour traffic. For some reason, Oscar and Lily can be perfectly civil to one another, maybe even have fun together, but get them in an enclosed space, say the car for example, and something happens. They become like little wild animals--screaming, hitting, slapping, pinching. Not to say these things don't happen at home too, because they do, but in the car, there's nowhere to run. This is what it sounded like tonight:

Lily: screaming
I look in my rearview: What is going on?
Lily: crying, loudly
Oscar: She hit me when I was meditating, and so I got angry.
I roll my eyes: Give me a break, Oscar, you are not meditating.
Oscar: I am too!
Henry: No, I'm two!

Are we there yet?

Murphy's Law

I know everyone says this when they get a speeding ticket, but honestly, I'm a really conscientious driver. I hardly ever speed. I've only ever gotten one ticket (now two), and that was about 8 years ago. So wouldn't you know, I was speeding home for reasons that weren't really important, but seemed very important at the time, and there at the bottom of the hill were three police officers just waving cars over.

I've heard that you can talk your way out of a speeding ticket. I've never been able to, but that doesn't mean it can't be done. There are actually websites, blog posts, even youtube videos dedicated to this very subject. And though I did everything right, Officer Friendly still gave me a ticket. But maybe he won't give you one if you do the following:

1. It helps (if you're a woman) to cry. I did. Real tears too.

2. Keep your hands on the steering wheel.

3. Name drop. This one is of no use to me. I unfortunately don't know any Orem Police officers, but if anyone has ideas about how to get to know one (besides getting tickets), let me know.

4. Play dumb. There was no need to play; I was feeling pretty dumb, and talking gibberish.

5. Kiss up. Totally did this.

6. Don't argue.

7. And finally, ask for a warning. I did this too, but he just got mad at me. Maybe because he had already lowered my ticket? I thought I could at least try.

These helpful tips are from smartmoney.com. In Officer Friendly's defense, (as I mentioned) he did lower my ticket because we were all buckled up. I don't know...maybe the best advice I can give you is to stay away from that windy road by Krsipy Kreme today.

Home Again

Will's home from the hospital. Again. As we were wheeled through the halls, I thought with nostalgia, "It seems like only yesterday William was born in this hospital. Wait..."

Wednesday evening, Will felt a little hot to me, but then, he had been sleeping on me, and the house was hot. When Phil got home he declared, "Will's burning up." I took his temperature and sure enough--103. Then I noticed a red spot on his foot had grown significantly, so I called the on-call nurse. She suggested with a baby so young, I take him to the emergency room and away we went. We were admitted around midnight, and were brought to pediatrics around 4 am. By that time William's fever was almost 104, and the red on his foot was growing bigger and bigger and starting to swell.

Two different ivs (one in his head), two different antibiotics and about a day and a half later, Will is on the mend. A special thank you to all the wonderful nurses who made our stay that much better, were so sweet to Will, and so kind to hysterical me.

We're anxious to see what else this kid's got up his sleeve.