All aboard!

As I believe I've eluded to previously, yesterday - President's Day - was about oh, the 50th time between December and February by my count that Ian stayed home on a day when we were paying for him to be in preschool. (With December being the huge winner, of course, thanks to all that wintry weather.) I mean, hey, I enjoy throwing money out the window was much as the next person - but I must admit that sometimes it gets a little frustrating. I think if he were in school full time I wouldn't notice it as much - but take away that precious Monday, Wednesday or half-day Friday and I'm in agony! Okay, well maybe not agony - but it is noticeable. Lately I've been trying to put a little spin on it and look at it as a valuable donation to the institution that is helping to educate my son in these critical early childhood years. Sometimes it works.

Okay - so venting aside, it became clear fairly early on in the morning that we were going to be in need of some sort of activity outside the home. I don't know, it might have had something to do with the fact that I must have heard, "I want to go in the car. I want to go in the car!" about 10 times by 9am. Alrighty, fine - we'll go in the car. But where? This is always the big debate. I can't tell you how many mornings I spend running through activity options in my head - most of which get crossed off the list for one reason or another...too cold outside...too crowded....we just went there...you always get sick after we go there. This is one of the reasons why the Tuesday Sports Class was so great. I didn't have to think about it...it was just on the schedule. And of course it's particularly challenging in the winter. So, after going back and forth over several options in my head yesterday, I looked at the relatively decent weather out the window and settled on the zoo. Even though I was positive that similar conversations were going on at that very moment all over Portland - and that we would all be converging on the same parking lot within the next hour. Ugh. However, before I could use it as an excuse to change my mind, I asked Ian about it - in the form of a choice, of course: "Ian, would you like to go to the zoo this morning or play at home? As if I didn't already know the answer. But hey, I gave him a choice which in little kid speak means control, right? So, off we went.

The Oregon Zoo parking lot delivered on its promise and more. The place was more frantic than me trying to get to free cone day at Ben & Jerry's. Just when I was about ready to give up and had announced to Ian that it looked like he was going to have to settle for a park visit instead, there it was: a spot! After some quick screeching and a few donut maneuvers in the parking lot - we had procured a location to leave the car so that we could peruse the wildlife. So really, it had been a successful day already and we hadn't even approached the gate yet.

One of the great things about our zoo here is that it comes complete with a miniature railroad. And in case I haven't mentioned it before or you haven't witnessed it, our kid is a big fan of trains. Probably somewhat similar to every other three-year-old boy in America. And at the zoo, Mom is a big fan of the train as well. I mean, all I do is get us on board and then just sit there and enjoy the scenery - and he's as entertained and excited as can be. What is there not to like? We got to the ticket stand just as the Zooliner (cute, yes?) was about to leave and amazingly, there was still room on board. So on board we got and off we went. In the summer, the train usually makes close to a half hour loop through the zoo and through Washington Park which is yet another fabulous Portland offering that adjoins the zoo grounds. However, as we learned yesterday, in the winter (when the train only runs on weekends...and apparently holidays) they significantly shorten the trip to around 10 minutes just around the zoo. Still enough time to see the elephants (we have a baby here now who is so cute!), wolves, the bald eagle and other various wildlife.

After our train ride, we went to visit the African area of the zoo where they have the cutest darn giraffe you've ever seen (I think these may be a new favorite animal for me these days), some pretty zebras, the monkeys, two hippos (who only wanted to show us their back side) and let's see...that's all I can think of right now because my brain is not working well. I will say though that seeing all these cool African creatures may have secured the safari theme for Ian's new bedroom (which I'm still giving thought to, of course). But after that it was well past lunchtime so we scurried back to our parking spot which I gave up after - taking a chapter from the Rod Blagojevich school of business - I sold it to someone who wanted it for equal the amount we had paid in Ian's school tuition for that day.

Today - my normal day with Ian - we went to storytime at the central Beaverton library. They do a nice little program for preschoolers with a few books and songs, which he seems to enjoy. Of course it also gave us the opportunity to pick up some additional tractor/truck/train/general construction reading materials. I was more enthusiastic than usual about loading up on these themes in hopes that they will serve as a hearty in-flight distraction for our Thursday travel to Texas. I don't know, but something gives me the feeling that I'm going to be up to my eyeballs in reading about excavators by the time we reach Houston. This trip will of course mark the end of Ian's 1.25(ish) year ban on flying due to consistent demonstration of demon-like behavior on airliners (except in his early months...he was great then!). There's been a lot of "prep work" happening...reading Amazing Airplanes, having discussions about what to expect, how we behave on airplanes, sitting in our seats, keeping our seat belts on (or harness, in his case), being patient, talking quietly....we'll see if it pays off. If you don't hear from me again, that might mean it didn't go so well. Oh, and did I mention that Ian will be missing school this Friday and again next Monday?

Until I write again.

My not-so-funny Valentine's story

I feel that I've learned a fair number of things about parenting since I became one a few years ago. I mean, if I were to say, major in parenting - I think I'd definitely be beyond the basic courses at this point and into the advanced course work. (At least in the early childhood major.) And like all good courses of study, it's not all easy going. Every now and then an exercise comes up that really stumps you. Which is exactly what happened to me this week:

So, as everyone knows - tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Day of Cupid, true love, bows and arrows, blah, blah, blah. When we got Ian's class newsletter at the beginning of this month there was a big reminder on the front (and only) page: We'll be having our class Valentine's party on Friday, February 13 this year! See attached list for names of everyone in the class! My very first thought was, Huh? And then my very second thought was, Oh, right, Valentines! I think I vaguely recall some required exchange of little cards with silly sayings on them. Of course, I also recall things being a little less politically correct back in my day and being crushed to death when Fred didn't give me a Valentine, or that girl who I wanted to be best friends with so badly...of course not bad enough that I remember her name right now. And my third thought was, Oh goody - another item to add to the to-do list!

Anyway, in my attempt to be an involved parent I signed up the next day to bring apples in for the big bash. And, I figured I'd just stop in at Freddie's (notice how they seem to get a lot of publicity on this blog?) and pick up a box of those cute little Snoopy Valentines I remember from 30ish years ago, fill them out and call it a day. Fast forward to Monday of this week. I was picking up Ian when one of his teachers said, "Oh, so just to let you know - we decided to change the party from this Friday to this Thursday because the librarian is coming into the class on Friday." Which, for me, now meant that I needed to have the Valentines ready by end of day on Wednesday since Ian doesn't goes to school on Thursdays. This also meant that he wouldn't able to attend the Valentine's party, which was a bit of a bummer. However, for some reason, the Wednesday Valentine deadline didn't actually occur to me until Tuesday evening. Still, I thought, Oh, no big deal. I'll run out and get them after I drop Ian off tomorrow morning, fill them out and give them to the teacher when I pick him up Wednesday afternoon to distribute on Ian's behalf Thursday morning.

Enter Wednesday morning. By this point, I already knew that our Freddie's did not in fact have any Valentines (at least that I saw) - so I headed straight for Target after dropping off Ian. Now, let me say here that I must admit that one of the huge benefits of being unemployed...or excuse me, not working outside of the home...is being able to go to stores like Target on weekdays. Really, it spoils you from ever wanting to have to out shopping on a weekend again (though don't get me wrong - I do it anyway). So, I walk in and immediately soak up the calmness that is Target on a Wednesday morning. Ahhhh! Of course I don't go straight to where I need to go because, duh, I'm in Target. So I meander a bit, hitting the toy section to scope out some potential new mini gadgets to surprise Ian with on our plane trip to Texas next week. Of course, not that this "occupy them with new toys" strategy I keep reading about has ever worked for us before, but it doesn't mean we stop trying. Anyway, it's there in the toy section that I'm confronted with Super Annoying Mom #1. (Which, by the way, is a trade off of shopping on weekdays.) You know, the one roaming the aisles with the cell phone glued to her ear, not paying attention to her cart or where she is, but instead yapping nonstop about how little Johnny didn't sleep a wink last night. Meanwhile, she has this cute little girl trailing along behind her who she's paying zero attention to, except to turn every once in a while and yell, "Come on, Madison!" And she's just like Visa: Everywhere I want to be.

Next, I venture over the Valentine's section. Which is where I discover that the store wasn't as quiet as I thought it was. Because every person from at least half the cars in the parking lot was pretty much within this two aisle radius. Which I guess shouldn't have been all that surprising given the proximity to the official Hallmark holiday of the year. But I couldn't take it so I retreated for the main greeting card area which - big surprise - is where the other half of the people were. Ugh. Still, I had no choice so I suffered through before moving back to the Vday section where I encountered Super Annoying Moms #2, 3, 4 and 5. Maybe more. I lost count. There was all sorts of stuff going on in these aisles...little bins of picture frames, pencils, you name it - they had it. But what they didn't appear to have was a box of Valentines. Finally, I located them in a relatively small area. They looked a little different than I remembered. And there was no Snoopy or anything relatively cute or neutral. The choices were Hannah Montana, SpongeBob, Batman, Cinderella and a couple of other options I can't recall now. But let's just say they weren't good. And they definitely weren't like I remembered. I was confused. I kept thinking...there must be something I'm missing here! But not really. I mean, there was one box of "Make your own cards!" that involved a bunch of foam, some pens, some beads...I didn't really understand it so I put it back. Now I was getting a bit frustrated. This was supposed to be a quick outing and I had other things I wanted to get done that day while Ian was in school. You know, things that might actually lead to a paycheck at some point. But never fear! I had another idea! I'd just go down the way to my new favorite store Michael's and they would have exactly what I needed. Michael's never disappoints (at least they didn't when I re-discovered them over Christmas)!

So, I walked in the front door of Michael's fully expecting to be overcome with heart paraphernalia. Instead, I was overcome by plastic flowers (spring is coming, after all). I wandered around for a bit before coming across one measly display area of red stuff. It was right next to the measly display of green stuff for St. Patty's day. And oh yeah, they definitely had some Valentines...but it was the exact same stuff they had at Target. Apparently Miley Cyrus is making a killing off Valentine royalties this year. Plus a couple more "do it yourself" kits laying around that made no sense to me. It was at this point that I started aimlessly wandering around Michael's getting panicked. I had approximately five hours to deliver some Valentines to Ian's class and I was totally stumped! I knew I only had one choice: I needed to find my inner Martha. But I didn't even know what a Valentine was supposed to look like! How big are they? What do I write? Do I need envelopes? Luckily this saleswoman must have noticed me looking frazzled because she offered to help me and I was more than happy to oblige. And even better, she had young children. So, after a crash course in Kid Valentines 101 and a few ideas, I set about collecting my own materials. That's right - I was just going to make my own, darn it!

Approximately 2.5ish hours after I had dropped off Ian, I finally arrived back home armed with Valentine-making materials. By the time Jeff got home that afternoon, I was knee-deep in colored card stock, scalloped scissors, foam heart stickers, and gold and silver pens. Along with the class name list, of course. And now all I kept thinking was, Who are you and what did you do with Melinda? But seriously, talk about how I didn't intend on spending my day! And of course in the middle of all this I realized that it was only right that Ian have the opportunity to be involved in this little art activity. I mean, why should I have all the fun? So, I got a good start on everything else and left the stickers for him to place on the front when he got home that night. When I picked him up, I told his teacher that we'd have to drop off Ian's Valentines in the morning at which point she said, "Well, why don't you just bring him and leave him for a couple of hours?" Really?? Well, since you offered... (Oh, and by the way, it's not like we haven't already paid for about a million days over the past couple of months where he didn't actually go to school - including another day this upcoming Monday for the President's Day holiday. So I didn't mind taking her up on her offer for him to be there for a couple of hours on one of his "off days". Plus, I knew he'd really enjoy being at the party.)

On Wednesday night, Ian - with some help from Mom and Dad - had a great time putting the finishing touches on the Valentines for his school friends. We also cut up and put a small sheet of stickers as a little gift inside each Valentine. In the end, we had a lot of leftover stickers, which made Ian very happy. He was in heaven spending the rest of the evening - and Thursday - putting heart stickers all over new "cards" he made. On Thursday morning, he went to his Valentine party and came home with a whole bag of Valentines, most of them Hannah Montana, Cinderella, Batman... (um, can you say overachiever?) He also had some other special treats and a big smile on his face. So I think it's safe to say that his first class Valentine experience was a success. And of course I just can't wait until next year! Or even the next holiday, really.

Of course it also hit me at some point in this whole process that we needed to get Ian a little something for Valentine's Day. So, in honor of the fact that he does seem to be taking to chocolate these days, I got him some chocolate hearts from See's, a card and a little teddy bear (from Freddie's of course), which will actually be the first teddy bear he owns. As for Jeff and I, we are bucking our trend of staying in and making a nice meal at home and actually going out to dinner this year to a place we haven't been before called Lucy's Table. We figured what the heck, especially since it's on a Saturday this year and these days we'll pretty much look for any excuse to get out for a nice meal. And, if things go well, we may even get really wild and go out dancing afterwards!

So, Happy Hallmark Holiday...er, I mean, Valentine's Day to all!

Until I write again.

The great bedroom debate

So, a couple of weeks ago we took Ian to the pediatrician for his three-year well visit, which went swimmingly well, by the way. And yes, he's still in the 90th percentile for height and weight, for anyone who might be wondering. But during the course of the visit something came up about Ian and his crib. As soon as the word came out of my mouth, I could tell there was slight pause and some sort of look going on as if the doctor was pondering whether or not she should go in our file and immediately pull our Parenthood card. So I quickly added, "But we are transitioning him soon!"

Of course I've been planning to transition him "soon" for at least six months now. But honestly, the deal is that most kids are out of a crib by now because they have been forced out - either by circumstances beyond their control or by learning to scale the side to escape - neither of which has been an issue in our household. Sure, every now and then I've gone in his room to get him up from a nap he has his leg hoisted over the side ready to take matters into his own hands - at which point I say something like, "Ian, please don't do that - it's dangerous," and the kid actually listens and retreats until I lift him down. Must be my Super Mom powers in action again. Still, I understand that while we all cherish the confines of the crib - it might look a little funny when his friends come over in high school and he's still got the rails going on in his room. Plus there will be a sizing issue happening at some point, I imagine.

But here's the deal: It's not like I haven't tried to make this switch. Or thought about it, oh, at least five out of seven days each week. Because I have. Really, besides being slightly reluctant to give up the prison-like sleeping arrangements, it's a decor issue. As in, I'm concerned about the look - which might make me look a little bit shallow at this point, but let's face it, these are some of the things I spend my time thinking about (when I'm not consumed with thoughts of world peace, of course). I've been searching high and low for some time now for the right new accommodations and can't seem to have that "Aha!" moment, as I believe Oprah would call it. (Though I think she actually means something meaningful or spiritual rather than bedding choices. Perhaps designer Nate would be better to consult for an appropriate term in that arena.)

Of course the centerpiece of the new setup is the bed itself. And in that respect, I've kind of been like Goldilocks. No, this one's too high. No, this one's too low. This one's not kid-friendly enough. This one won't clean well. This one looks too cheap. And this one looks too expensive! However, while there seems to be a lot that I'm not sure about with regard to this new decorating challenge - there are indeed a few things I am sure about. And here they are:

1. I'm not really into "kid" furniture. Sure, with a few clicks of a mouse I could order up something overpriced from Pottery Barn Kids. But besides that not really fitting into our one-income budget these days...why in the world would I want to pay $900ish for a bed that has about 100 pieces of wood too many on it and has "I'm 10 therefore this is what kind of bed I am licensed to have in my room" written all over it. Plus, what it really comes down to is that most "kid" furniture is on the traditional side and I'm not much of a traditional decor type of gal. So, whatever bed we choose has to be some sort of combo of being kid-friendly without really looking like a traditional kids' bed. Which is somewhat difficult to locate, I must admit.

2. The bed has to be a platform bed. In case you have no clue what I'm talking about, these are beds that don't use a box spring and are therefore lower to the ground. This is the type of bed we have and I'm a big fan. Lower beds make rooms seem larger and more open, and I personally don't notice a comfort difference. Plus, given that we are bypassing a "toddler bed" that some parents transition kids to at this point - a full size platform bed will give him room to grow while still being safer for him at this young stage if he falls out. It also avoids us having to make yet another bed switch in the not-too-distant future. Oh, and while we're at it, I'm also not a huge fan of footboards. I prefer the end of the bed to be open, also making the room feel larger and more open.

3. I'm not really into "kid" bedding, either. Now, this where things get tricky. Because I'm not so awful of a parent to know this isn't about me...it's about Ian. Or at least that's what I keep reminding myself. So, themes like Thomas Train or Bob the Builder or SpongeBob whatever-his-name-is are not really under consideration at this point in time. Now, that's not to say that more subdued "themes" like general car sheets, airplane sheets, etc., with some sort of solid comforter would be out of the question. I just don't want it to be...overboard, shall we say. And for what it's worth, as of right now, I still I have some reasonable control over this situation in that, unlike his mother, I really don't think Ian has spent a lot of time thinking about what type of comforter he wants on his new bed. Which could have something to do with the fact that he has no idea that he'll be getting a new bedroom set soon, but that's beside the point.

So, the bottom line is to say that I've been all over the board on this new bedroom thing is an understatement. But after seemingly endless searching for an economical, yet nice looking, yet kid-friendly bedroom set - I hesitate to say that I think I've come back full circle to going with something from....drum roll please....IKEA. Yep, trusty ole' IKEA. And to think at one point in my life it was my goal to rid our house of every piece of IKEA furniture. Clearly that was pre-kid. I'm going back and forth between a couple of different sets there, but here's the most recent finalist in case anyone is interested (color TBD).

The bed is really low, which is great, and it's a clean and simple design (just like IKEA says!). Plus, you can't beat the price, that's for sure. We would get the tables that hook on the side with a slot for magazines - or in our case kids' books. I think that would be kind of fun. I'm not completely in love with the big, chunky style dresser that goes with it, but it may happen anyway. This isn't the final choice, granted, just a strong finalist at this point, I'd say. As my next move, I might go check out a couple retro furniture stores around Portland to see what they have in the way of mid-century modern secondhand used furniture that might look cool in a boy's room. I saw a Danish modern dresser online earlier today that looked kind of fun and different.

As for the "theme", if you will, well, one day I think I'm going to paint the walls blue with a red comforter and airplane sheets and the next day I hate that idea. So who knows. My most recent idea that I'm still kind of liking is a safari theme. I personally think animals are always a good thing to be surrounded with - except maybe if they are small and furry and have names that start with a Z and a C. But the safari thing came to mind while I was perusing the PB web site last weekend and came across this duvet cover. I thought something like that would be fun with maybe some of this type of artwork on the walls. Or this. Of course, I've also started a small collection of Ian's "artwork" that I had planned on framing and incorporating into his new bedroom when he got one...and I don't know how that all fits in, but we'll get it figured out (that is, unless I change my mind tomorrow). Come to think of it, some of the painting is pretty "wild", so there you go! And then of course there are things like a new wall color. While I'd personally love something in the chocolate brown category with that type of theme (somewhat similar to the IKEA photo earlier, actually), I think that something perhaps more along the lines of a nice red might be a little more fun for a preschooler. (You see, I'm really not totally oblivious!)

And so the quest for a new bedroom for Ian continues. However, I can assure you that Change is Coming! Soon...

Until I write again.

Witness to history

Okay, so Mother Nature has her good days too

I've done my share of complaining about Mother Nature's bad attitude in recent weeks. Which means it's only fair that I give credit where credit is due when she decides to show her softer side. And that she has over the past four or five days now - showering us with clear blue skies and lots of bright sunshine (albeit still a bit windy and chilly in Portland, but hey, it is January).

So, Friday evening Jeff and I enjoyed a dinner out solo at what has become one of our "date night" staples in town - Wildwood restaurant - while Ian participated in "Parent's Night Out" activities at his preschool. (They host this event once a month on Friday evenings from 6:00pm to 10:00pm where they let the kids play in the gym, then feed them dinner, engage in more activities and then settle down in jammies for a movie until pick-up time. It's definitely a nice little extra!) During dinner we decided that we should take advantage of the sunshine and semi-long weekend (Jeff planned to work on Monday, but from home) to partake in a mini excursion somewhere. By Saturday morning we were even more enthusiastic when we heard the forecast was for mid-40s here in the valley - but oddly enough, in the mid-60s and sunshine on the coast and up at Mount Hood. Weather jackpot! Clearly we couldn't go wrong with either location, but after a few quick calls revealed there were still a few hotel rooms available with great deals in Cannon Beach - a quaint beach town almost due west from Portland with lots of little shops, restaurants and art galleries - we packed up our stuff and headed to the coast.

One lunch stop and a little over an hour later we checked into our one-bedroom suite, which we find is kind of a must-have these days for travel between Ian's 7:30/8:00pm bedtime and our desire to not have to sleep in the same room with him whenever possible (we love him to death, but he's kind of loud). This place wasn't the Ritz or anything, but for a little over a $100 - it was pretty nice. In addition to the separate bedroom, it also had a king bed in the main area, a fully-stocked kitchenette, a living area with a fireplace and a balcony with an unexpected bonus partial view of the ocean across the street. And, as suggested, it was literally steps from the beach. I thought about asking what they charge in the summer, but I decided I didn't want to know.

Before we knew it, we were out on the beach kicking the ball around and playing in the sand. And as promised, the weather was incredible. Jackets not required. Which is crazy because in the relatively short amount of time I've been back on the west coast, I've learned my lesson to wear layers and always bring a coat to the coast - because even if it's sunny and warm inland, it's almost always at least 10 to 15 degrees colder on the coast, often with plenty of wind and fog. Yet, that's one of the reasons why I love the Oregon - and in general - the Pacific coast much more than the mid-Atlantic coast. Unlike the mostly flat beaches of the east coast where people largely flock only in the heat and humidity of the summer months to bake in the sand, it's the weather patterns and beautiful landscapes that make it so unique and awe inspiring. It's a place that can be appreciated any time of year - whether it's watching a big rainstorm come in from the Pacific in November, whale migration in December (an activity we have not done yet but is definitely in our future) or laying on the beach in August. At least that's my opinion.

Still, no one is going to complain about a beautiful, sunny day at the beach in January! And it was apparent that we weren't the only ones who had taken note of the weather forecast because the beach was kind of packed (for winter). By late afternoon we headed back inside when it was clear that Ian was in need of a bit of quiet time...not to mention that we didn't mind having some ourselves! We kicked back in the room, watched the sunset and eventually walked across the street to an unexpectedly nice and yummy meal at a restaurant called the Wayfarer. (Can you say Prime Rib?)

Sunday morning I ventured out to the beach with the camera just before 7:30 am to enjoy the early morning calm and watch the dawn break. So pretty. Someday if we ever win the lotto, a house somewhere along the coast with prime oceanfront views will certainly be tops on the list of extravagant purchases. Of course, I guess first we'd better start actually playing the lotto to help that dream along. Anyway, that was followed by family breakfast at the Pig 'n Pancake (doesn't that just sound like it belongs at the beach?) and then back out to the beach for a mid-morning stroll where the weather was near perfect, I must say. We packed up around 11:30am, stopped at a deli in town for sandwiches and headed up the road through a forested area to Ecola State Park for a picnic and some more ocean viewing from up high. For anyone who might vaguely recognize the name, by the way, Ecola State Park got a lot of publicity a few months ago (Today show, sensational entertainment shows - not that I watch those - etc.) with the parents who released the video of their little girl falling through the fence there while posing for a picture, narrowly missing tumbling down a cliff straight into the ocean. (Her uncle jumped over and caught her.) Ugh. It made my heart stop every one of the million times they played it on TV. They've since improved the safety of the fence at the overlook where it happened, but I have to say we were there last spring before they fixed the fence and it didn't take a brain surgeon to recognize it wasn't safe and to keep little ones far away. But, I digress.

By mid-afternoon Sunday we were back on the road headed towards home, where we oddly enough had to drive back through snow on the ground over the coast range. Sunday night a very tired Ian went to bed early and we watched the inauguration concert on HBO, which gave me an opportunity to start practicing my waterworks for Tuesday. Of course I have to say that it's in part due to the fact that, despite a great weekend here, all this focus on Washington and watching the concert in front of the Lincoln Memorial started making me feel a bit DC-sick. Though, I've decided that in case of any future historic inaugurations where they plan to host millions of people, they should really switch it to the springtime when DC is in all its glory versus now where it's looking quite cold and gray, I must say. Maybe I'll write my congressman with that suggestion.

Oh, and one last thing...speaking of this MLK holiday weekend and the inauguration: Last week Jeff had the great idea that because Ian is a bit too young yet to help volunteer - instead, today we would go to the store, buy some food and take it with him to donate at the Oregon Food Bank in honor of this national day of service. So, earlier this morning the three of us headed out to Fred Meyer, bought a bunch of food and took it to the Food Bank warehouse out in Hillsboro (about 10 miles out from here) only to discover that the site was closed! That was kind of disappointing. They have other drop spots around town but we had hoped to take it to the main location as part of the experience. So, I think we are going to go back again - but still a bit of a bummer for today, nonetheless.

Until I write again.

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.