Fresh Squeezed Juice!

A couple of weeks ago, a friend gifted me a bag of oranges that she had purchased from her co-worker's child. She figured (correctly) that we would find a use for them. As I prepared dinner one evening, I set the little people to work first rolling the oranges around to soften them up, and then juicing them. Yes, it was a mess, but wow was that juice delicious!

Elaine

Never in Ten Years? Really?

Helen attended a friend's birthday party last weekend and it was tons of fun, well, until this one incident happened. The party consisted of a guy bringing a "touch tank" where kids could see all sorts of marine life up close, and then hold it. Can you guess what the incident is?

Helen was having a blast until she was handed a fiddler crab. The fiddler crab proceded to pinch her hand, which resulted in her attempting to shake it off, which only made the little bastard more determined to hold on, which caused Helen to scream so that everyone in the room could know the indignity she was suffering.

The guy who handed Helen the crab of course apologized, and then informed Ed this hadn't happened in ten years.

I didn't attend the beginning of the party because Connor had diving lessons. By the time I got there, Helen was pure legend as Ed, Helen, and several other parents related the story. Apparently Helen's response to the crab dampened the other children's enthusiasm for that portion of the party. Which, as it turns out, was perfectly fine since the guy was pretty much done and it was cake time.

So what I want to know...was this really the only time this has happened? Or is this just how this extremely popular entertainer escapes the clutches of a bunch of 3 year olds?

Not surprisingly, a piece of cake solved all!

This photo has nothing to do with this story, as you might guess, but I couldn't resist posting a photo from Helen's most recent tea party.

Elaine

P.S. Happy Kansas Day!

Homemade Friday: Week 3

I realize this is actually week 4, but last week I was busy complaining about being in the hospital for an enormous kidney stone, that is now, thankfully - out of my body. Fortunately for you, I cannot share a photo of my impressive sized stone because in order to remove it, the doctor had to play Asteroids on my insides and pulverize the sucker. (And, for those keeping score, trying to pass a 7mm kidney stone is like having back labor for a week and making little to no progress and not getting a baby at the end, making it far inferior to the pain that goes with birthing a baby. So, I'm calling it now. The pain from kidney stones is worse than the pain from labor - at least one this large. I'm still thinking if it were smaller I could've passed it without having to go under general anasthesia. I hope I never have to find out though.)

Anyway, this week I'm sharing four wee people that I made for Helen and Connor, along with instructions for making Wee People - mostly because I looked all over for instructions and couldn't find them easily.


On the first and third days of Christmas, I gifted Connor and Helen each a "wee person". I purchased a few of these at the school's annual Fall Festival a couple of years ago, but then two of them got lost in the great backpack caper of 2009. So, I'd been meaning to replace them for a while.

I made these wee people by bending a pipe cleaner into the shape of a body. For two of them, I then wound embroidery floss around the pipe cleaner which actually takes an enormous amount of time and patience. Plus, it's hard to cover up all that fuzz from the pipe cleaner. For the next two, I took a shortcut and rather than winding floss around the pipe cleaner, I simply found some beads that could serve as hands and feet and glued them on.

The heads are made from round wooden beads I found in the craft store that have holes drilled through  them. Simply pop the beads onto the neck and then find some sort of head covering so the wee person doesn't look as if it has a hole in it's head. After completing the basic form, I then cut out felt clothes, sewed them on and voila! Here are four wee people enjoying residence in a little fairy house the kids play with.

Elaine

Snow Day!

Today, Ed spent most of the day outside playing with the kids while I worked from home. Because my office? It never closer. Never. But Ed's office? Even when the rest of the federal government manages to open, his office appears to play it safe and cancel business anyway. I'm licking my wounds of having to work today pretending that it just means my job is more important than Ed's. Even though I know it's not.

But what's good for Ed is good for the kids. They went sledding and discovered that there is sledding on every street near us - yay hills and side streets! Then they played in the backyard, and finally I couldn't resist all the fun and came out with my camera when they moved to the front yard. Only, it appears I was neither wanted nor needed.

Elaine

Spread the Word! Free Lymphedema Sleeves for Low-Income Women

Last January, my former nanny - Rani - died from breast cancer that had metastasized to her brain. As mentioned on this blog earlier, she was uninsured, and received much treatment and care - but all of it was just too late to change Rani's outcome.

I've had the opportunity to learn more about insurance and breast cancer in the intervening year, and what I've learned most recently is that some breast cancer survivors will suffer from lymphedema - painful swelling of the arms. And sometimes, the appropriate medical treatment is for them to wear a lymphedema sleeve.

Only these sleeves aren't often covered by insurance.

And this means that if you happen to have the double whammy of not being well-off AND getting breast cancer, you might not be able to actually get this medically necessary lymphedema sleeve, because it's expensive. Had Rani survived, this would have been the case, unless someone purchased them for her.

You can read more about the issue here.

So, Susan from ToddlerPlanet got together with Sue from Laundry for Six, and together they put LympheDivas (maker of cool-looking lymphedema sleeves that Susan wears) in touch with Crickett's Answer (charity that pays for services for women with breast cancer) and now there's a way for low-income breast cancer survivors to get free lymphedema sleeves.

If you know anyone who you think might need these sleeves, please have them get in touch with Crickett's Answer. I've been told there are hundreds of sleeves waiting to be shipped out to women who need them.

If Rani were alive today, this is something she most definitely would've benefited from. I'm sure there are more women just like her out there. Let's find them!

Elaine

Wordless Wednesday: Connor Helps Helen Down the Stairs

Strangest Night of My Life: Health Care, a Kidney Stone, and more!

As mentioned, I went ice skating last Sunday with the little people, followed by skiing the next day. Only, I didn't really ski because I spent my time passed out in the lodge in lots of pain. The pain came and went in waves, until finally, on Thursday, I called my primary care physician.

Only, even though I am part of the insured elite with one of those really great federal health insurance plans, I couldn't get in. Apparently - and I did not know this - if you don't see your primary care physician at least once every three years, they dump you. Because I go to my midwife for all my well-women care, and I am rarely sick enough to require a doctor in my zip code, I don't go to a primary care doc. Instead, I call my brother-in-law's excellent diagnostic phone service. And here, I should mention, if my brother-in-law regrets becoming a doctor, it is totally my fault because I am always calling him for free medical advice. If he's not immediately available, my sister tells me what to do because being married to a doctor is just about the same as being a doctor - or at least she thinks so.

Anyway, on the advice of my brother-in-law, I went to the ER. And actually, I went to the Urgent Care clinic first because I felt guilty about going to the ER, even though my brother-in-law told me that my problems needed to be attended to in the hospital, not a clinic. (Apparently I don't always take his advice.) The urgent care clinic sent me to the ER. See how smart my brother-in-law is?

After arriving at the ER with book in hand and a full bottle of water, I settled in to start reading. It was, unfortunately for me, a busy night. I finally got seen by a doctor and after I spent a few minutes apologizing for being in the ER and explaining how I didn't have a primary care doctor, blah, blah, blah, the doctor spent a few minutes apologizing for my wait. Of course, I was all - hey - I'm a mom of two. I haven't sat and read a book cover to cover in years. This was the most relaxing night of my life.

Well, at least after they loaded me up with pain meds it was relaxing. About this time, Ed called me to tell me a stabber was loose in our neighborhood, so he was locking the door and I should be careful when I came home. Yes, he was totally calm about this. I had visions of being stabbed in my driveway looking for my keys because my jerk husband decided to lock the door so he could go to bed while I sat in the ER.

One CT scan later and with three prescriptions and a referral to a urologist in hand, I was released from the ER with the knowledge that I had a 7mm kidney stone. For the record, most people complain about a little 2mm or 3mm stone. So, mine is like the mother of all stones. The ER doc couldn't believe I'd made it so long before coming in, until I informed him I gave birth at home and had a pretty decent pain threshold.

I went to the 24 hour pharmacy, and my night got even weirder. On my mind, of course, is the knowledge that there is a stabber loose in my neighborhood. I pulled up to a very empty area of the pharmacy parking lot that was well lit and glanced around to see if there were any people between my car and the front door.

All Clear.

So I got out of my car and immediately, a guy called out to me - and he was on the passenger side of my car and here is where I about lost it completely. Because, uh, stabber? Hello? He told me a long story about his dad and a heart attack and Raleigh and I have to admit, I wasn't thinking that clearly, so I asked him if he was trying to get directions to North Carolina because I really am not good at directions.

No, no directions needed. He needed gas money. At this point he was within a few steps of me and it was so strange, and nothing added up, so I reached in my wallet, gave him $20 and figured he would leave me alone and I would live to tell the story. (Which I have, obviously.) Only, he then asked me who else I knew in the neighborhood that he could get money from and I looked at him and said "It's midnight, dude. People are sleeping." And he explained to me that he needed a tank and a half of gas and I actually stood there for a minute trying to figure out how many miles away Raleigh, North Carolina was and tried to then convert my $20 into gallons of gas, and then convert that into miles he could drive, to see how close he'd get, only I have no idea how far away North Carolina is, nor do I know how much gas costs because Ed's job is to fill the gas tank, not mine!

Anyway, the strange parking lot guy kept asking me for advice, and I was busy performing math in my head and finally I sputtered out  - "Why don't you get in your car and start driving?" and I high tailed it into the pharmacy, after assuring him that I was not going to give him my name and address because he really did not need to pay me back and if he felt he must, he should just donate the money to a needy organization.

Once inside the pharmacy, I replayed the conversation a few times, and it kept making less and less sense until finally I decided that he would be standing outside the pharmacy, ready to murder me and take my prescription drugs and money. And now, rather than being a helfpul gas-money giver, I was actually an ENABLER of some bad drug habit, which made me feel really guilty. So I thought about calling Ed and waking him up to ask him to come escort me the 15 feet from the front of the pharmacy to my car, only then another customer was leaving and I just pretended like we were best friends and tailed it out with her, but not before putting all but $5 in my front pocket and tucking my drugs safely away because I somehow convinced myself that maybe I would just get mugged instead of murdered, and this way it wouldn't be so costly.

I got to my car, drove the few blocks home, and then once again sat in the car and looked around for the on-the-loose stabber and cursed Ed because he actually turned the lights in the driveway off before he went to bed. The man leaves lights on all day long when he is not even in the house, but manages to turn them off after alerting me to the fact that a stabber is on the loose in my neighborhood. Go figure.

Somehow, I evaded capture, and tried to relate this all to Ed when I got home about how lucky he was that I was still alive, and by the way, I'm having surgery in a few days for the mother of all kidney stones, and the next morning? He remembered nothing.

Tomorrow is the big day that that little stone will be lasered out. Ed will actually bring me home this time, so I don't have to worry about strange encounters in the pharmacy parking lot and stabbers on the lam in my neighborhood.

And that's why I didn't post anything for homemade Friday this week. It shall return next week - and it might just be a picture of my kidney stone!

Elaine

Don't Mess with Ed's Kids

Typically, Ed avoids confrontation. Except when he decides to stick up for his children.

On Monday, as Ed walked up the bunny slope and Helen rode up on the magic carpet, two boys immediately behind her decided to toss snowballs. At some point, the game became more energetic, causing one kid to fall on the other, which almost knocked Helen down.

Ed looked at the two boys and said "if you knock her over, I'm getting you thrown off this mountain".

My advice? Don't mess with Ed's kids.

Putting 2 and 2 Together

Weeks ago, Ed was at the hardware store with Connor and he purchased a couple of large pieces of wood that he told Connor he planned on using to make a table.

Yesterday, Connor and Ed were making miniature furniture for his fairy house and Connor asked if they could abandon that project and instead turn to the project of making a big table.

Ed was caught totally off-guard. He had to explain to Connor that those two pieces of wood were what his new train were on. Connor paused, took in the information, and then asked Ed "but how did Santa know to use those pieces of wood for my train table?".

Ed shrugged his shoulders and said "I don't know. I guess he just found them sitting around in the workshop."

Bets, anyone, on when the jig is up at this house?

Elaine

Selecting Heroes: Young Mandela - The Revolutionary Years, a From Left to Write Book Club Selection

Selecting a hero can be a dangerous thing, especially - it often seems - if that person is a public figure. I know, there are plenty of good guys and gals out there, but I feel like when I bother to watch the news, it's loaded with stories of famous people's indiscretions. I could list many, but I'm not going to. That would only draw more attention to the acts or serve as a reminder of a string of disappointments in my life. And seriously, just because you can catch a football or hit a golf ball, or wax poetic about particular causes better than anyone else, doesn't mean you automatically possess other characteristics that are admirable.

I have always hoped my children would choose people they actually knew to look up to. Be it a teacher that helped them in a particular way, a friend's parent that said the right thing at the right time, or a relative that leads their life in a way my children admire. They might even choose that really smart kid sitting across the aisle from them in class, someday. It seems like these folks are safer bets for role models - and not just because they can be vetted a bit before taking on any mythical proportions. But likely, because these folks are living ordinary lives, doing possibly extraordinary things, paving the way for my children to emulate their actions.

I was excited to pick-up the book "Young Mandela: The Revolutionary Years". I slogged through it diligently getting lost in the details often. But in the end, I had trouble wrapping my head around whether I was supposed to be excited learning about Mandela opening up his first law practice that primarily served black South Africans, excited about Mandela's insistence on the anti-apartheid movement involving people from all races, or if I was supposed to be disappointed that the man had several indiscretions and seemed to basically ditch his first wife. In the end, I reminded myself that I am often disappointed by the behavior of famous men and women, who seem to let power get to their head and forget about some points of common decency. And now I wrestle with how the information in this book relates to my images forever burned in my head of Nelson Mandela - freedom fighter.

Elaine

Disclosure: I was given a free copy of the book Young Mandela: The Revolutionary Years, by David James Smith. As part of the From Left to Write Book Club, I wrote a post inspired by this book.