I might be dying...again

Can I just complain about something for a minute or two? Wait, of course I can - it's my blog!

So, one morning early last spring I was standing at the bottom of the stairs urging Ian to hurry up and come down so we could get in the car and head off to work/daycare when suddenly I started getting this very uncomfortable feeling up and down my left arm and into my hand. It was like someone was squeezing my arm very tightly and wouldn't let go. I literally tried to shake it off but couldn't get rid of it no matter what I did. But, off we went with our day and by mid-morning at work - not only was this weird feeling still there but it was getting increasingly uncomfortable.

I started getting nervous. Left arm pain, radiating down the arm, into the hand, some tingling, felt very cold...what does that mean? What does that mean? At that point I did what any modern, rational person would do: I jumped on Google and start trying to self diagnose. Now, at this point I must say that I did go into a bit of a panic because the only thing I knew about left arm pain is that it can be associated with having a heart attack. Which, normally I would have laughed off given my age and overall state of health - except that I do happen to have just a slight - or okay, more than slight - family history of fatal heart issues at a young age. After spending some time researching symptoms and having coworkers suggest that maybe I should call a doctor - I called Jeff to report that it was entirely possible I could be dying right there on the phone. I don't think this made him feel super comfortable, especially given that at the time, he happened to be on his way to the airport for a business trip. I recall him saying, "Well, do you think I shouldn't go?" But I told him to go ahead - that if I was really dying it would just have to wait until he got back.

That afternoon while still juggling work, Google searches and contemplating whether or not I should call my doctor - I finally decided to take action. I marched into my friend Zach's office and asked if we could call his Dad, who happens to be a doctor in town. I described my symptoms over the phone at which point he said, "I don't think you're having a heart attack Melinda, but it does sound like you might be having a nerve issue." Wonderful! I clearly wasn't dying, which was obviously great news. So I just slept on something wrong and had a pinched nerve. That made sense. Problem solved. Or not.

Sixish weeks later that stupid annoyance was still there...except it had gotten even worse. What started in the arm and hand was now clearly originating from points in my upper back area - under the left shoulder blade, just to be specific here. It was from there that I had an almost constant shooting pain down my arm, also with the numbness and tingling. The only relief seemed to be when I would lay down in bed at night. As soon as morning hit, it would return and oh boy, within mere minutes of sitting down at my desk at work, there was some serious discomfort going on. (Not to spoil the whole point of this story or anything...but much like I'm feeling right this very second!) Early evenings at home would usually involve me laying on the couch moaning and groaning with an ice pack affixed to my back. One day I said, "Gosh, I'm really tired of this - maybe I should give that doctor a call!"

Of course by that point I already knew what the problem was. Which is one of the reasons why I really didn't want to go to the doctor. I was pretty sure that I had a pinched nerve that was resulting from a herniated disc in my spine. According to several credible online sources, the first step in treatment is a round of physical therapy - which apparently usually does the trick in relieving the pain. If not, then other steps may need to occur with surgery as a last resort option. HOWEVER, it clearly stated in several places that your doctor may want to do an MRI as part of the initial diagnosis. Yeah, you know, those machines that are a claustrophobic's worst nightmare? Oh, and have I ever mentioned that I am slightly claustrophobic? I was hyperventilating at the mere thought of being shoved into one of those death traps just so they could tell me I had a herniated disc - which, HELLO - I already knew!!! (And um, so why do people still need to go to medical school when we have Google?) Still, it had become painfully (pun intended) clear that I needed to take some steps toward relief of this little issue. So, I made an appointment.

A couple of weeks later I walked into my doctor's office, still in pain with my newly printed t-shirt that read, "MRIs Are Against My Religion". I wanted to send her a subtle message. Well, I guess it worked because after we talked she said, "It sounds like we should get you in some physical therapy." Shocker!!!! But instead of pondering whether or not I should have been a doctor, I was just relieved that there was no mention of those three little letters.

Anyhooskie, several physical therapy appointments, many prescribed exercises and one job resignation later - my pain had magically disappeared and by the end of June, I was feeling like myself again. What a huge relief. Until...December. Actually, I happen to know that it was around December 11 because our new niece Ellie was born that day and I specifically recall that for some reason I had been feeling particularly tense for a few days that week (sympathetic baby angst??). And, because I hold all my tension in my upper back/neck area, I remember it felt like a rock. Then approximately one week later on a Saturday, it returned. At first it was just one slight shooting pain down the arm. Then another. Then another.

Soon, it was clear. It's baaaaack! With a vengeance, I might add. This time bedtime doesn't even offer a hint of relief. In fact, if I even threaten to flip on my stomach, Whoa Nellie! I should also mention that dealing with constant pain and weakness in the upper left side of my body is also quite fun with a 37 lb. three-year-old who needs to be picked up for various reasons every now and then. So these days I walk around most of the time half hunched over, usually shaking my left arm and hand around in an attempt to get even a second of relief. Does this look slightly strange? Absolutely. But the good news is that this time it only took me about a month before I decided to call the doctor. My appointment is this Friday. Time to dig out the t-shirt again.

Until I write again.

Where does the time go?

It really does seem like just yesterday that we brought home this new 9 lb., 4 oz. baby boy we named Ian with no clear idea what we were supposed to do with him once out of the hospital. Yet, in the blink of an eye (plus two houses and one cross-country move later), this past Saturday, January 10, he turned three years old. All I can say is, Wow - already?

Of course one of the many things about parenting that you don't learn until you actually experience it for yourself is how celebrating your child's birthday has this whole extra meaning attached. Because really, to you, it's not just the joy of your child's birthday but it's also an anniversary of sorts. That is, an anniversary of the day that your life drastically changed forever. Of course this phenomenon is really pronounced on the first birthday since in all honesty, the kid has no idea what's going on - but for you - you remember exactly what you were doing one year ago on that day. It wasn't pretty, but it was definitely special. And three years into this whole parenthood thing now, I can definitively say that there's been no better gift than to have a front row seat in watching Ian grow and develop - learning a new word, expression or phrase one day that he didn't seem to know the day before. Each year has gotten more fun than the one before, so undoubtedly we are looking forward to what his fourth year will bring. (Of course not that I'm spending any time thinking about how I've heard from many that the "terrible twos" are more often the "terrible threes" these days...)

Just like the holidays this year, this birthday also felt very different from his first and second because it was the first one where it was very clear to him that this was his special day. And he didn't let us forget it. Last Friday I dropped him off at school with some special birthday blueberry muffins (he picked out muffins over mini cupcakes...go figure) to share with his classmates and teachers during snack. He must have asked a million times on the way there, "Mommy, today is my birthday?" I think I finally gave up on trying to explain to him that the next day was his actual birthday but today he was celebrating with his classmates. So it's very possible that he believes he has at least two birthdays in a row now. Whatever floats his boat, is what I say. By the time I picked him up at 12:30 p.m., to say he was beside himself with birthday excitement is an understatement. He ran toward me wearing a big purple crown that said "3 - Ian" in big gold glitter writing on the front. It was accompanied by a book that the class had put together for him with pictures colored by each one of his classmates. Teacher Stella and Teacher Liz said he had been beaming from ear to ear all morning long. He barely removed that crown the rest of Friday - not even while catching up with Big Bird.

Saturday morning was like another mini-Christmas. He came downstairs to a table full of presents that we opened with him after breakfast. He was in heaven with another round of fun new books and toys at his disposal. (As were his parents since he is more than occupied with all his new stuff these days!) A couple of special birthday calls topped off the afternoon and that evening, our neighbors and a couple of other friends joined us for dinner and cake to celebrate our new three-year-old. Even though there were just four children, semi-organized chaos is how the evening might best be described. Luckily there was sufficient alcohol available to the adults in attendance who desired or needed it.

Ian had requested a "train cake" for his birthday, which in marketing terms to any entity who sells children's products, of course means you get Thomas the Train. So, there you have it. We had what I would call a semi-Thomas the Train theme of which the centerpiece was an adorable and always super yummy cake from Beaverton Bakery. And for the record, I believe that we are now three for three in Ian not taking one single bite of his birthday cake or ice cream. Oh, and I learned yet another valuable lesson of parenthood - which is that even though those blow horns (with the things that unravel when you blow them) may have their place in life - New Years Eve, for example - they do not belong at a young child's birthday party. Enough said there.

And if he wasn't tired enough by Sunday morning, that afternoon I took him to a birthday party for a four-year-old that is worthy of mention here. We went to this place called Pump It Up, which is really code for "How to Make Lots of Quick and Easy Money off of Parents". Specifically designed for birthday parties, this place is a money-making machine, let me tell you. It's located in this nondescript building in an office park off the freeway. You go inside and immediately you're directed to drop the presents in a bin. One signed waiver and kids' "safety talk" later, the group is whisked through a door into this large and again - somewhat nondescript - room with huge inflatable bouncy things. One has a slide, one has basketball hoops and I'm not even sure what the third was. The point is - the kids jump and run around like mad people while the parents sit on the sidelines with a dazed look on their faces commenting to each other about how they wish they had thought of this business idea. After a half hour, the whole group is herded through a door into an adjoining room with yet another set of huge bouncy things. Rinse and repeat for another half hour. Once that fun is over, shoes go back on. Everyone gets squirts of hand sanitizer and you go through a third and final door to the all-important party room where magically the gifts, along with pizza and cake, appear. Oh, and don't think that if you look through the window of any of the doors that you previously went through - or the ones ahead of you - that there isn't another birthday party already in progress. So in other words, it would not be misleading to say that birthday parties are literally herded through this place nonstop, all day long. But back in the party room - the first five minutes, kids eat Goldfish from bowls on the table. Distribute and eat pizza - next ten minutes. Light cake, sing, blow out candles, distribute and eat cake - another ten minutes. Last five minutes - take balloon, say goodbye and you are on your way home a total of 1.5 hours later, complete with kid in the backseat begging to have their next birthday party at Pump It Up. (Well, for the record, Ian didn't ask that...but I suspect it may just be because he hasn't caught on yet.)

And so, that concluded our three-day birthday celebration. I'm already exhausted thinking about next year.

Until I write again.

And you thought the holidays were over

Tonight we participated in our final - and arguably most important - holiday activity of 2008: Ian's school holiday program. (And at this point, I'm sure you don't need to ask why this was taking place tonight instead of before Christmas.)

At the beginning of December they started advertising the holiday program at school but Ian never said a word about it to us. I wondered - Would his class be in it? Were they even practicing something? Because if so, he wasn't sharing. And we didn't ask. So of course we were very curious about this "holiday program" and were very bummed when it didn't take place on its originally scheduled date before Christmas. Luckily, once classes finally got back in session this week the school director quickly pulled together the new date of tonight.

The festivities got started at school around 5:30 p.m. Instead of picking up Ian from class, we were directed to go straight to the school gym and take a seat there. The back wall was all decorated with adorable handmade decorations, with a paper garland Christmas tree as the centerpiece above a wooden stage. Already I wondered if I might cry at the sight of my son in his first school performance. Quickly setting thoughts of potential waterworks aside, we started chatting with the parents of one of Ian's classmates when we heard a commotion at the doors of the gym. The kids were ready to begin. Director Tricia gave a short intro and the music started to play. Only, we're not talking Frosty the Snowman - it was Stayin' Alive. As in, from Saturday Night Fever. Yeah! This is going to be even better than I thought! But it turns out that was just the toddlers' walk-down-the-aisle music. Once all gathered on stage - a feat in and of itself - they started singing Wheels on the Bus. Well, actually, the teachers started singing. The toddlers just sort of stood there. One started crawling down off the stage and running toward his Mom. And one started wailing. By the end, things weren't going well overall. Which just made it hilarious.

Next up was the 2 1/2 year old class - starring Ian Burpo (okay, maybe he was just the star in our minds). The walk-down-the-aisle music for his class was Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas. Which, I pretty much have to turn the channel every time that song comes on the radio because it's one of my least favorite holiday jingles ever - but that's okay. Maybe he'll get Jive Talkin' next year or something. Jeff and I had positioned ourselves (along with the other parents in Ian's class) at the front with video camera and digital camera in hands. Quite a juggling act indeed (as can be seen in the video quality).

Once they were all situated, they started their little song and dance. Now, let me pause here and say that one of the reasons that we were really intrigued by this whole thing is that we were curious how Ian would perform on a stage given that - as I've talked about - he's not the most extroverted of kids in group settings. So a whole auditorium of camcorders and flashes going off? Hmmm.... I half expected to see him do a repeat of the stand-and-stare toddler act. But no sirree. He seemed pretty into it from the moment they got started with some rendition of Row Row Row Your Boat that I must admit I had never heard before. But there were bells and jumping and twirling and it was all good. And if one song wasn't enough for these adorable little people, they concluded with We Wish You a Merry Christmas - including a big Happy Holidays! shout out to the crowd as their big finish. At which point the whole audience jumped out of their seats in roaring applause. The crowd was going wild! Or, maybe that was just the parents of the 2 1/2 year old class. I'm not sure.

Anyway, it was all pretty cute and now my holidays are officially complete. A video version will for sale on Amazon.com very shortly. PS - We're pretty sure Ian had fun despite how things might look in this photo.

Until I write again.

2009 has been a great year...so far

Okay, so we are actually only on the fourth day of the New Year but I have to say that so far it's been a really good year. Here's our year in review so far:

Countdown to Day One. Of course our New Year officially started off on New Years Eve where it wasn't until about 4 or 4:30ish p.m. that afternoon that we decided what we wanted to do that evening...which was sort of nothing. But being home never stopped us before from creating our own party and having a good time, which is exactly what we did. First, we popped over to Freddie's for some tasty dinner makings (yes, steak and baked potatoes were involved). Once home, we kicked on the "Party Favorites" on the music channel and that's when things really got rolling as we revived our official living room version of Dance Party USA (which admittedly has not made much of an appearance since leaving Dinwiddie Street). While I unfortunately don't have any photos to commemorate the revival of DP USA, I do have some video - which I may or may not be sharing in the near future.

Once Ian enjoyed his requested New Year's Eve meal of a "tostada" (aka, quesadilla) and a piece of Santa chocolate - he headed off for a bath and bed (well, not by himself - we were there to help him). After Jeff and I wrapped up dinner we returned to the dance floor - some of us longer than others - before heading back out on tour with the Stumptown Burpies downstairs. And then before we knew it, it was approaching midnight so we called off the tour and came up to watch Dick Clark...who now looks frighteningly similar to Ryan Seacrest...drop the ball. And let me just pause here to say, wow is that show bad. And besides that, what I really want to know is, who are these people who actually think that standing in Times Square with zillions of people screaming while freezing their butts off for hours on end actually sounds fun?? Because personally, you couldn't pay me to be out there. Well, I guess it would depend on how much you were offering - but it would have to be a lot. Maybe enough to pay off our mortgage or something like that.

Day One. Our first day of the New Year started off on a very positive note with Ian sleeping in until something like 8:30 a.m. Though, I have to say that with the holidays and recent weather issues throwing off all our schedules, he's been sleeping later a fair amount. That was the first 8:30 morning, though. I sprung out of bed with bells on and was M-O-T-I-V-A-T-E-D to start the year off right. How, you ask? Organizing, of course! Being it was the beginning of a new year and the fact that the weather was super nasty out (rain nasty, not snow nasty) - what better day to get the household in order? So that's pretty much what we did from morning till night. We took down the tree, the lights outside, packed away all of the Xmas stuff, I filled boxes with the latest round of outgrown Ian clothing and put it in the garage, we broke down boxes and hauled out trash and recycling for Friday pickup the first time in 2+ weeks, we made some money by selling our old high chair and fireplace set on Craigslist (we hated that high chair but were sad to part with the fireplace set - though we just didn't know if we'd ever need it again...), I reorganized our main storage closet in our den while Jeff cleaned out and organized the garage, and I put new pictures in frames...it was great!

Day Two. Jeff worked from home on this day, so Ian and I were on our own. Still tuckered from the previous day's activities, I have to say that we weren't overly ambitious about getting out early. And Ian is really into being in his jammies these days. In fact, we are having a lot of battles about putting on our "day clothes", but that's a story for another post. So he was running around with stickers all over him (Santa brought him transportation stickers in his stocking) and at one point I see him walking over with this big fat Elmo phone stuck to his ear. He's clearly having an important conversation with someone when he goes over to the drawer with our takeout menus and pulls out the menu for Lin's China Jade - still with phone to ear.

Me: What are doing, Ian?

Ian: Please be quiet. I'm ordering.

Me: Oh, okay, sorry to bother you. Carry on.

Ian: (Walks over to chair in the living room and puts menu down point at items.) Yes, I'd like a grilled cheese. Yes, and a peanut butter and jelly, too!

So, apparently the Chinese joint has expanded their menu since we last ordered from there, which is good to know. But since I know that kids often mimic what they see their parents doing most, I'm not sure how to take that little episode - but it was funny nonetheless.

And speaking of takeout and food, the real highlight of Day Two of 2009 came in the evening. After we had subjected ourselves to some crazy number of nights eating at home (it was at least four!), we were overdue for either takeout or a dinner out. So, we went with the latter. We decided to splurge a bit and take Ian out to a nicer little Thai place (but still kid-friendly) that we usually just get takeout from. And let me just say that we had the loveliest dinner with our two-soon-to-be-three-year-old! More and more lately it seems that we are finally reaching a point where we can enjoy a meal out w/o anxiously gulping down our food at light speed and asking for the check halfway through the meal. And boy have we waited a long time for this day! We actually sat there perfectly relaxed amidst candlelight, ordered appetizers (!!), had not one - but two - glasses wine and enjoyed a tasty dinner. Ian loved his sticky rice and chicken satay with "peanut butter" sauce. Heck, we even had to wait for him to finish his dinner before asking for the check! This is a new and pleasant trend, for sure. Of course, I should also mention that a little added bonus of this particular place is that it has full-length windows that sit right beside the light rail train track - so a train would come through every few minutes, much to Ian's delight.

Day Three. The perfect day of organizing on Day One was complemented on Day Three by a much-needed visit from our beloved Maria (who like many other things - had to miss a visit during the bad weather). And poor Maria - it is a wonder she gets anything done with Ian as her little helper who follows her every move like she is a rock star. As soon as she walks in, he whips out his broom and dustpan and helps her "clean" around the house. About mid-morning Jeff, Ian and I left the house for a visit to an aviation museum in McMinnville, which is about 30-35 minutes from here in the wine country. We came across it one time when we were driving to the coast and it looked quite impressive from the road so we took note to take Ian back sometime. I mean, this place isn't the Smithsonian or anything, but they have quite an impressive display of aviation nonetheless - including that it is now the home of Howard Hughes' infamous Spruce Goose. Ian seemed to enjoy walking around and looking at all the airplanes. Then, last evening we shared a babysitter with our neighbors and went for dinner to an nice Indian place on the east side, followed by a fun cocktail party that was being hosted by a good friend of both of our neighbors (and who we see fairly often as he visits our hood quite a bit).

Which brings us to Day Four. I'd say it's been sort of your typical end-of-holidays Sunday before the business of the New Year really gets started. Grocery store, a bit more organizing and all that fun stuff. Plus a little catch-up blogging, etc. But despite today not being particularly exciting, it's still good to feel like you are getting things in order. Tomorrow Ian will start going to school full days on Monday and Wednesday while continuing with a half day on Fridays. I'll be using that extra time to step up my search for something that might actually pay - ideally in the form of freelance work for now. It should be interesting to see how that goes as it has become apparent to me in recent months that there are a lot of job seekers out there right now.

So all in all, it's been a great first four days. Now just 361 to go!

Until I write again.

I wonder how I'll like driving when I learn how?

Okay, so I'm hoping that if I vent over this little episode it will help me move on from it - which I clearly have not done yet. So, here's the story:

The past couple of days I have been hit hard by the CCs. You know - the Curse of the Clutter. I mean, it's everywhere! We've got Christmas decorations, we've got wrapping paper on the bed upstairs, we've got bags and tissue from purchases, we've got new toys everywhere and most of all, we've got GARBAGE. That's right. You see thanks to ARCTIC BLAST 2008, our trash and recycling hasn't been picked up in nearly two weeks now (actually, make that a month for recycling because they only do that half as often). Combine that with all the extra trash you have during the holidays and well, let me just say it ain't a pretty sight. So, suffice it to say that Mama Bear has not been happy with all of the clutter in our midst. Yesterday I set out to take some steps to remedy the situation by starting to remove some Christmas decorations and wrapping paraphernalia upstairs and organize them back in boxes. Well, about two seconds into this little project it was clear that I was going to need more organizational tools at my disposal. Which is where Target comes in. Okay, hold that thought for a minute.

So, yesterday morning Jeff took his car into the dealer to get a couple of things repaired. They gave him a brand new TL (same car that I drive) as a loaner for the day, which he proceeded to drive about 1.2 seconds from the dealer to our house and park in the side parking spot of our driveway where it stayed all day until the afternoon when the following conversation took place:

Me: Hey, I'm curious how the new TL drives. If you don't mind, I think I'll take it for a spin down the road to Target. (The TL was just redesigned for 2009 so I wondered if there were many differences in the new one versus my now older model - which is really the point of why they give you a brand new TL as a loaner, right? With the hopes that maybe you'll love it and be interested in a little upgrade?)

Jeff: Sure, but it's a keyless operation so I'll need to come out and give you a little tutorial.

Me: Oh, I don't want to go through all that - never mind, I don't really need to drive it.

Jeff: Oh, it's no problem, it'll be quick. Oh but wait, I left the keys upstairs, I'll have to go get them.

Me: Oh really, never mind - this is turning into more of a production than I intended.

Jeff: No it's not - but just make sure you don't get in an accident!

Me: Okay, I'll try! (Nervous laugh.)

So we go outside and I get my little tutorial on the keyless operation as well as a few other things. A half hour or so later, I'm all set for my little jaunt to Target about a mile down the road. Jeff reenters the house and I put the car in reverse - watching for a car to pass behind me before I pull out into the street when BAM! I feel the back side of the car slam into something hard. All I recall is quickly pulling the car back up and jumping out while uttering a few choice words. It turns out that I hit a telephone poll that sits directly in the path (well, off to one side but still directly in the path) of where the car was parked in some extra pavement space that is to the side of our main driveway. It was on the very side edge of the back bumper and while it did not actually cause a dent - the gook-covered pole did a rather nice job scratching up and discoloring the shiny new silver paint job on the car. Ugh!!!! Are you kidding me??? I couldn't believe it. As you can tell, I still can't believe it! I got back in the car to pull it forward again, I think all the while saying Choice Word. Choice Word. Hit the steering wheel. Hit the steering wheel. Choice Word. Choice Word. Then I got out and ran inside yelling for Jeff to come outside and help me make sure this wasn't a bad dream. He assured me it was real.

Jeff returned the car to the dealer (which is literally across the street from the end of our street) yesterday evening and they said they'd call today with an estimate on the damage - which turned out to be just over 500 smackers. After insurance, we are hoping our portion will be just about $100, but we'll see. My glass-is-always-half-full husband is encouraging me to move on given that it's now a "sunk cost" in his mind, but let's face it - I'm not as good as he is at moving on quickly. I have to dwell on it for at least a day. Sheesh. Which is why I decided to do a little blog therapy. I will consider this my final release and plan to move on immediately upon posting.

However, to end on a more positive note: This little incident did finally encourage me to post a couple items on Craigslist today that we've been meaning to get rid of for quite a while now in hopes of helping make up the cost difference for this unfortunate episode. Also, I learned an important lesson which is that I will never again drive another vehicle that isn't mine unless I really need to. Grrrr. Okay, now deep breath. Out with the bad energy, in with the good energy. You see, I already feel much better.

Until I write again. Oh, and Happy New Year!

Now this is what we like to see

I thought I'd post some evidence that things have returned back to normal in Portland. (And I can vouch that it happens to be pouring cats and dogs as I write.) I think I echo the feeling of many Portlanders when I say that I've never been so happy to see precipitation of the non-frozen variety:

And just for good measure, here's one last snow picture I took a few days ago of Jeff and Ian's faceless snowman in our front yard (who has since gone bye-bye):

Until I write again.

A new day

It's been nearly a week since I last posted so I figured it was time to get back at it. There have been many little things that have happened over the past week that are certainly post-worthy, and I realized that they could all be summed up in the title of this post: A new day. Why?

Well, first of all - it feels like a new day on the weather front for sure. By the morning of Christmas eve, about one and a half weeks into our seemingly never-ending snow/ice event - things were getting pretty frustrating. Really, when people can't go to school or work or finish up Christmas shopping or really go anywhere they want or need to go when they want or need to go there, it can start to get a little maddening. I mean, even the cats were at each other's throats by last Wednesday. Oh wait, that's normal. Never mind. The point is, there was definitely some stress building that may have even caused an episode (or two) of family bickering. Oh, and there was also that one semi-awkward moment of a slight breakdown at the FedEx facility where I trekked on Christmas eve to retrieve some packages that never made it to our house. I think it had something to do with the stress of most every road - including Interstate 5 - being like some combination of driving over a bed of rocks (huge chunks of packed ice and snow) and being on that car ride at Disneyland where you have to stay perfectly on the tracks without veering too much to one side or it would shoot you back to the other side rail.

Road stress aside - by late morning of Christmas eve, the weather conditions were looking up. The additional snow that they had forecast did not materialize and instead the temperature was slowly climbing. I believe it was at that point there was a collective "Yahooooooeeeeyyyyy!" that could be heard across the city. And we in the Burpo house decided that being it was Christmas eve and all, it was time to get over our frustrations and get in the Christmas spirit. So that, we did. Christmas eve we had a very fun evening with our two neighbor families and had a wonderful Christmas day watching Ian experience the joy of Christmas, cooking and eating a delicious turkey dinner, and talking with family members. By Friday morning, the snow was already starting to disappear (helped by lots of rain, of course) and though many roads were still in desperate need of a good plowing - they were starting to improve slowly but surely. With vastly-improved mobility under our belts - we did what any good American would do in this time of economic crisis: we headed straight for the mall. By Saturday, we were driving down the highway on actual pavement just like normal people would do. And today I went for my long-awaited haircut. Tomorrow, Ian will return to school and tomorrow eve we are planning to go to Zoolights at the Oregon Zoo, which we thought we had missed when the Zoo was closed several nights due to weather. So yes, it feels like a new day indeed!

But in addition to a new day in the sense of returning to normalcy after two weeks of things being not-so-normal, it's also very clear that this holiday season marks the beginning of a new phase in our parenting journey. The phase I'm referring to is, of course, the Santa Deception Phase. Because all of a sudden this year Ian clearly gets it. I mean, not only does he suddenly know who Santa is, but he knows where he lives. For example, on Christmas morning we went in to get him up and immediately he wanted to know if Santa had been to our house. We said, "Oh, I think he was definitely here last night and he left you some presents." And he said, "And now he went to the North Portland?" (Which for the non-locals, happens to be one of the "up and coming" areas of the city with a few kinks still to be worked out.) "Um, well close, but I think what you meant was that he's back at his home in the North Pole now," I said. "Oh," he said.

But as with many lies, you find that once you start telling a little white lie like the fact that there is this jolly old fat man who wears a red suit and climbs down chimneys to deliver presents to kids around the world all within one night - there's a whole other set of deceptions that now must follow that you don't initially think about. Which is frankly why it's much easier to tell the truth. For example: wrapping the presents. One day I was wrapping presents and it suddenly occurred to me that I only had one type of kid wrapping paper, when really I should have two types of kid wrapping paper: One for gifts that Santa brought (and of course had wrapped himself) and then one for presents from us. Dammit. Of course normally it may not have been a problem just to run down to Target for a new roll of wrapping paper to keep up with this little Santa charade, but when there happens to be a foot of snow on the ground and you have the very person you are trying to deceive locked to your leg, it becomes slightly more challenging. So then I started making up explanations in my head (as if my two-year-old is going to ask why the wrapping paper is all the same - just like I knew he'd never find the unwrapped gift under the guest bed): Santa clearly didn't have time to wrap all the gifts beforehand, so after he came down the chimney he snuck upstairs to borrow our gift wrap. Perfect. Whew, the path of deception was still intact!

And then of course there are the presents themselves. For example: what Piece de Resistance would the little come down to find from Santa under the tree on Christmas morning? This year, after remembering at the somewhat last minute that we were lacking an actual Piece de Resistance from Santa -we decided on, and procured, a "Grand Walk-In Kitchen" with so many bells and whistles on it that it would make Emeril salivate. Of course Grand Walk-In Kitchens don't just come already assembled. No way, Jose! They come in large boxes in about 50 bajillion (yes, you read that right - bajillion) pieces. And this is where the real fun begins for parents entering into the Santa Deception Phase, right? WRONG. So, enter Tuesday eve. I said to Jeff, "You know, we are going to be at the neighbors tomorrow night and maybe it's not the best idea to wait until Christmas eve to start putting this thing together." He agreed and so after Ian went to bed that night we went down the basement and pulled out a couple of engineering textbooks to get started. We had it halfway put together when trouble struck. Try as we might, we couldn't get the counter on. That, and a couple of other issues, led us to the conclusion that we had a defective product on our hands. Of course what we also had at that point was a half put-together Grand Walk-In Kitchen that was not coming apart. After about 20 minutes of two people with graduate degrees standing there perplexed about what to do next - we decided that one thing that was for sure was that this was not the kitchen that "Santa" would be giving to Ian on Christmas morning. So we had approximately 24 hours to get this one returned, procure a new one and put it together. Oh, and PS - there was supposedly more snow coming in the morning on top of already difficult roads. So again, it wasn't like we could just count on zipping down to Toys R' Us first thing in the morning.

Travel challenges aside, we knew we had to get this one back in the car. So we tore apart the car as much as we could and around 10 p.m. on Tuesday evening embarked on what I can now call a comical process of trying to shove a half put-together kitchen and rather large box containing the rest of the parts into the back of our car. (Remember that bickering I referenced earlier?) Then I went online to find out what time my favorite toy store was actually opening in the morning only to find out that low and behold - they were open until 1am that night. Well, hot damn! With more bad weather on the way and the clock ticking toward Christmas, I figured there was no time like the present to take care of Santa business. So off I went at a maximum speed of about 20 mph the whole way on icy roads trying not to kill myself and my defective Grand Walk-In Kitchen on a mission to retrieve a new Piece de Resistance. And let me just say that standing in the Customer Service line at Toys R' Us with a half put-together kitchen in my car at 10:30ish p.m. two nights before Christmas is most definitely one of the highlights of my parenting adventures to date. Frustrations aside, I have to say though that the process actually went very smoothly and a very nice man helped me remove the old and put in a new one - at which point I (slowly) trekked back home and Jeff and I did a Take 2 on putting together the Grand Walk-In Kitchen - this time very quickly and without incident. Thank God.
And so we have also entered a new day in the realm of holiday celebrations and all the good-natured deception that comes with it. But boy was it all worth it when he came downstairs and first saw that kitchen on Christmas morning. Which kind of sums up the whole interesting phenomenon I've discovered about being a parent: Even though you can feel a whole lot of frustration and sacrifice sometimes, really all they have to do is smile or give you a hug or say, "I love you, Mommy" and it makes it all worth it. And so I have included some pictures here of Ian's first glance at and moments with his kitchen, along with some general Christmas day excitement and festivities.

Until I write again.