Then I got my mother in law really sick with the same horrible, dreadful disease, right before shipping her home. We were supposed to do all kinds of things while she was here. Instead, there was a lot of going to bed at 8:30 going on in these parts. I heard from my mother, who was sick with it when she came here about a month ago. She says she’s starting to feel better. A month later. This makes me want to cry, if crying didn’t require way too much energy.

I’ve lost about four pounds since I got sick, from complete lack of appetite and energy.

I haven’t missed a day of work. Because work does not respect being sick. No it does not. My boss is even sicker than I am, and she’s still making it to almost all her meetings. Her boss has an infection in his knee that’s not getting better after some surgery, and neither one has slowed him down in the slightest.

At least no one else in the family is nearly as sick as I am. My husband coughed a little for a few days. The boys have seemed unaffected. I’m the only one who got flattened by it (well, my MIL looked a lot like I feel) and then of course it goes secondary. The sinus pressure is unbelievable. I finally went out and bought (gulp) a neti pot. And psuephedrine. I HATE psuephedrine. Hate it. Hate it hate it hate it. But I can’t handle this headache. It sends stabbing pains through my head every time I cough. And I cough a lot. The other day, I nearly threw up after a crazy coughing fit.

The worst part is, as I struggle to get back to at least 80%, is I can watch the work piling up. The laundry, yes. The dishes, my husband has done. The house is perhaps not immaculate. There are no leftovers in the fridge for lunches next week. And then there’s the taxes — totally my purview — due soon. I need to sign Grey up for summer camp (sounds so fun!). I need to plan our incredibly complicated 4 part trip to Washington State. I need to do the Costco shopping. I need to do the grocery shopping. There’s a bunch of spring maintenance uncovered by the melting snow that needs attention.

So I lie here on the couch, miserable, and think of all the things I ought to be doing.

In other news, I got my hair cut. It’s a nice haircut, I think, except I’m highly unskilled in hair arts and don’t know how to properly blow my hair dry so I’m having trouble making it look right. Also, I thought it was this big epic change and not that many people have noticed it. Possibly they’re distracted by my sniffling and doubling over with coughs.

This is what it looked like when I got back from the salon. I can't make it do this.

Oh, and on one of my sickest “Really shouldn’t be here” days at work when I was a little stormcloud of snot, I got a pretty big cool award as recognition of my exemplary attitude. (Really.) Which is pretty darn cool, but felt rather ironic when I was so darn grumpy.

Also, it’s spring. I meant to write big, poetic post about it, but like so many other tasks that one has gone unaddressed. But I figure you won’t discover the seasons are changing without my telling you about it (based on what I do write about), so in case you’re wondering… spring.

Yeah, I think I better go before more of my exemplary attitude comes out my nose. (HONK!)

What do you mean that haircut isn't radically different? I used _product_

Valentine's on a cold winter's day

If I had to summarize my #1 function at work in my new role, it’s asking people whether the project they’re trying to do is really worth it. (Often in many different ways, and usually involving Powerpoint.) Although this can make me rather obnoxious to my colleagues (I’m sure), it’s starting to have an impact on the rest of my life. I mean, if you keep focusing on ROI day after day, you start thinking about it even after you come home.

So I’d like to talk about toy “Return on Investment”.

For my fellow parents, raise your hand if you’ve ever bought an expensive toy, absolutely convinced that it would be your child’s favorite toy EVER in the history of the universe. For example, last Christmas I bought Grey a space-explorer set that included two space monkeys. Rockets ships. SPACE MONKEYS. Obviously this would be his favorite toy ever. Heck, it’s practically MY favorite toy ever.

The one time I’ve witnessed the child playing with this toy was when I was idly setting it up and making rocket-ship/monkey sounds while I was, uh, cleaning his room. Right. That’s totally what I was doing.

If I was to create a powerpoint slide for the “Space Monkey” investment, it would look like this:

Returns
Initial opening excitement: 3 (on a scale of 1 – 10 with 10 highest)
Hours of subsequent play: .5 (not including mommy’s)

Costs
$40
1 of Christmas presents (opportunity cost)
Storage space – 1 Ikea drawer

Intangibles
But, but, but SPACE MONKEYS!!!!

Result
Not a good investment.

The problem though (actually, much like work) is that it’s hard to predict the qualifications of a good toy investment. The best toy investments will:

1) Distract them while I’m making dinner
2) Not make a mess
3) Not cause them to fight with each other
4) Be played with multiple times
5) Not take up much room
6) Not be a “screen”

I’m usually willing to compromise on at least two of those when buying toys.

Graphical foreshadowing

1) He plays with at the table
2) Isn’t messy when used properly
3) Grey isn’t interested in
4) He loves all the time
5) Is tiny
6) Is not digital

Stickers. Thane loooooooves stickers. He will spend 30 minutes moving tiny little stickers from one piece of paper to another. Stickers. Dinosaur stickers. Mickey stickers. Smiley stickers. He doesn’t care, he just wants stickers stickers stickers stickers stickers.

He stacks the stickers high on one small area of paper

Returns
Initial opening excitement: 4
Hours of subsequent play: 10 (to date)

Costs
$5 for 400
No opportunity cost
Minimal storage cost

Intangibles
Played with at worst time of day
Keeps him quiet
Does not make noise

Result
Superb. Invest all available capital.

So I totally did. By today, he’d made it through most of the backlog of stickers I had lying around in my role as R&D mommy purchaser. I bought another 50 or so (for $.99), but they only lasted through nap time. So I made a whole separate stop solely in order to lay in a huge supply of stickers. It’s totally worth it, even if the this is just a consumer fad. Stickers would be a great deal at twice the cost and half the utility.

What about your kids? Which toys generate the biggest play-dividend? Which ones were bad investments? How do you decide which toys to buy and keep?

Meanwhile, Grey is writing a story.

http://picasaweb.google.com/fairoriana/November2010#

My sweet Thane is a light. He is a wonderful and joyful child. Knowing this post was coming, I’ve been thinking about what I want to tell you — tell him — about who he is at two.

My little man

Thane is a young man of great passion. He loves cars with an unflinching adoration. He will wander through the house, with as many Matchbox cars as possible pressed to his chest. (Note: He usually organizes his collections of cars around colors — so he’ll carry all red cars or all green cars.) He loves his books of cars, unlike his parents who loathe and despise his books of cars and attempt to hide them where he will not notice them. While cars are his primary passion, he also really likes books. One of his birthday presents was an ABC book of construction vehicles. After I’d read it to him, he took it with great authority and said, “Thane read dis book now.” He likes construction equipment and putting things into things. He enjoys throwing balls in the backyard and running around and giving me heart attacks by trying to run and jump and slide like his big brother.

There are so many things that are important about him. Perhaps I should move to bullet format:

(

From October2010

)

He is my persistent, singing, playing, happy son, and I love him with my whole heart.

Happy birthday, Thane!

Super hero brothers

But no. I came back from Istanbul, the heat of summer in the Mediterranean, to discover one flamboyantly yellow birch on my commute home. It has since been joined by several maples in scarlet on quiet roads. Being that it’s mid-August, I suspect drought has advanced the season, and not just my perspective. But still. The days are hot and humid, but shorter. Night arrives earlier, and lacks the sultriness of July. A tell-tale crispness creeps over the window panes in the early morning hours. We are, by no means, into autumn, but we can see it on the horizon.

Summer child

And it’s not just the bed. It’s been a while since I’ve given you a proper Thane update, but oh! What a big boy he is. At the farmshare pickup after Istanbul, I ran into a friend from church. “It was fun to see your family all in tie-dye,” she said, “But who was the curly-headed kid? And did you bring Thane with you?” She wasn’t being sarcastic, or joking. She literally didn’t recognize my Thane. He does so many big boy things. He climbs, jumps and runs. He’s very good at puzzles. He sits and reads books. He organizes his cars by colors and carries them throughout the house, lining them up. He speaks in full sentences now: “I found it!” “Car mine!” “Yummy pancakes” “Cereal and milk, please” “No, thank you”. He even comes up with new sentences. For example, the other day in the car when I started in on the “ABC” song, he said, “No! Daddy ABC!”

He can recite his numbers to ten. He sings about 90% of the ABC song. He knows “Ring Around the Rosy” and “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and sings them to himself. He tells knock knock jokes (endlessly!) at dinner. He can correctly identify all the basic colors.

He eats cereal in a bowl with milk. He snitches his father’s ice tea. He climbs into his high chair and car seat for himself. He follows instructions (when he chooses to). He will come lay his head on your knee and say “Nuggle”. He has two kinds of kisses: real kisses and “all tongue” kisses, and thinks it’s hilarious when he can give you one of the latter. Whenever he sees a cell phone, he demands to speak to “Gamma! Gamma! Gamma!” He can correctly identify our two cats by name.

He pours sand on himself first thing when he gets to a sandbox. I’ve brought him home and put him on the changing table, and had rivers of sand fall out of his pockets. He can tell you when he wants a new diaper. I’ve started him sitting on his potty chair, to begin that years-long process.

In a word, he’s not a baby anymore. He’s a toddler, a child, a boy, a curly-haired blue-eyed delight… many things, but not a baby. That season has passed.

Too big for his crib

Adam enjoys some turkish coffee

After our protracted lounging, we went to the Grand Bazaar. One is never quite sure how one did. I’m pretty sure I paid too much for the strings of stones I bought to have my mother-in-law string together for me. I think we paid the right price for the beautiful and finely made leather purse I bought, which when prorated over the next six years was quite reasonable.

Dickering in the Grand Bazaar

Possibly the best food in Istanbul

Tomorrow we are planning on visiting the Church in Cora, followed by the Fortress of Europe. The last must do that remains undone is to set foot on Asian soil. There are no compelling excuses for this in easy reach, so less compeling excuses will have to suffice.

Istanbul is lovely, and a delight in all ways. We miss our boys, but are revelling in every minute of the friendly and exotic city. I hope you’re all having fun!

Brenda

It was our stated goal to return the children in the pristine condition we found them. Sigh. Today Thane met the sidewalk during the picture taking and has a very mild abrasion on his forehead, lip and knee. Less than 1 minute of crying and no blood, but I suspect it may be a bit bruised tomorrow. We are sorry.

Otherwise, the picture taking was great. I was for taking the pictures at the house where the crew could be contained, but Coe (pronounced as in Co-operate) had looked up the stuff for the Fells and was for out doors. It was more fun and the pictures are really great! She took about 100 pictures — the kids together, the kids individually, us together. Then she stayed for lunch — what a brave woman. She will give us CDs and post the pictures on line at a site where we can get copies. This was the best photo session we have had. She will get the things to you in the next two weeks.

This afternoon I made good on a promise to the older kids. We went back to Revere Beach while Papapa stayed with Thane. He and Thane had a nap and then a competition free afternoon. A great time was had by all. The kids played about two hours building sand castles and playing in the waves. They were very cooperative and none of them threw themselves in the water like someone did the last time we were there. On the way to I noticed construction on Northbound 93 so decided to take a different route home. I am soooo smart. Don says the delay out of Boston was 2 1/2 hours. I took 16 to 28. 28 was difficult for a while, but then flowed fairly well. I got on the freeway just after the blockage and the traffic was wonderful! 45 minutes home. Not bad!

It was too hot to cook so we took them to the 99. They were wonderful — not upset by the upset glass of water or any of the rest of the nonsense. Our waitress even laughed at the boys jokes. Thane ate 2 hot dogs, some chips, a Sundae. Baz had a steak which looked great. I have never seen steak on a children’s menu for $5.99 before. I was jealous. Kay had a hot dog and Grey fish things. That takes care of Wednesday.

Tomorrow is supposed to be even hotter == which I am having trouble imagining. I think we will go to the children’s museum.

Peace be with all of us!

Gramama

Today was Hagia Sophia and the Basilica Cistern.

Hagia Sophia (pronounced Haiya Sofia) was the real final reason I wanted to go to Istanbul. Anyone who has read anything of Constantinople in the age of the Emperors has read of Hagia Sophia. Perhaps it was Justinian’s glimmering mosaics reaching up to the heavens, or the crowning of blinking emperors still dressed in the chains of captivity. Perhaps it was stunned awe of barbarian emissaries who wondered if they had actually died and gone to heaven. Maybe it was the astonishing plunder and despoiling of this great cathedral by the Christian Crusaders. Or that last, desperate mass when the Christians of Istanbul crowded Hagia Sophia to pray as newfound “cannon” technology destroyed the walls that had protected them for over a thousand years, against countless hordes of would-be invaders. Regardless, Hagia Sophia stands at the center of Constantinople as it was.

The domes of Hagia Sophia

I had seen what I considered to be copies — St. Marks in Venice foremost among them. St. Marks takes your breath away, a glittering gem reaching with gold tessarae to the impossibility of Pentacost. I couldn’t WAIT to see the original. Ah, Hagia Sophia! You break my heart! There are still glimpses there, of what was. A mosaic of Jesus and John the Baptist with wild and unruly hair catches the imagination. The porphyry columns stand magnificent in their purple. The tops of the pillars are carved with impossibly delicate vines. The expanse of the dome is breath-taking. But for the most part, the mosaics are gone. There is peeling paint and plaster where there were once endless rich scenes. The dome echoes hollowly. There is no music or incense left. Giant 19th century Islamic calligraphy changes the flow of the building. But mostly, there was little left of the beautiful lady on the hill but her shell. I knew better, but somehow I expected to be able to see more.

John the Baptist and Jesus in Hagia Sophia

We left a little disheartened, although perhaps we shouldn’t have been. The vast streaming hordes of tour groups didn’t help, I think. But from there we went to the Basilica Cistern. Istanbul is dotted with cisterns. This one was build by the Romans, around the age of Constantine. It was dark, cool, and very mystical. The portrayal was well done, with dim lights highlighting the lovely symmetry of the ancient cistern.

The Basilica Cistern

It was discovered by the Ottomans over a thousand years after it had been built when people had wells in their homes — from which they drew living fishes. We wandered through the cistern, to the cool drip of the subterranean waters. At the very far corner were two enormous Medusa heads, set askew. There are theories as to why they are there, but no certainties. Under normal circumstances, they would be hidden below the water, menacing the fish who still swim there. The craftsmanship, age, mystery and loveliness of the cool cistern combined to make it one of our favorite spots.

Ancient Medusa in the Basilica Cistern

We’re planning to round out the day with a visit to the Turkish baths.

We went to the 300 year old Turkish baths at Cagaloglu. (Pronounced Jailalu.) I have a lot to say about the experience, from my point of view. Perhaps surprisingly, I found it an intensely feminist and liberating experience, as well as a very nice massage. Unlike American massages, you actually do get cleaned. There’s something quite amazing about being soaped and scrubbed. It was a profound and moving experience for me, although that may have as much to do with what I brought to the experience as anything else.

Tomorrow, I think Topkeki Palace.

The food is excellent, the weather lovely, the city is bustling and ancient, and the carpet salesmen are persistent, to understate the
case.

The food was really, really excellent. Really. YUM!

We love you guys. We miss you, but not enough to wish we were home. Mom, give those boys of ours kisses. Do they miss us?

Meanwhile, back in the States:

I am reminded of the Christmas story about the person who spent a small fortune on the toy and the kid wanted the bike. I took the kids to the beach this morning. Let me say up front that Brenda warned me not to do that, but did I listen? Thane is, indeed, a lemming — “water” — Wow, can that kid move. But note, I made it to Revere beach and back. That is to be lauded in the navigating area. The bad news is, Thane slept on the way home. The knowledgeable know that means he did not sleep when he got home.

The afternoon task was to make the Camp Gramp shirts. Tie-dye. However, that was for doing when Thane was asleep. Even I wasn’t dumb enough to do that with Thane awake.

Right now they are entertaining themselves with no adult imput — they are fascinated by the baby monitor system. They dash from room to room sending messages on the system. I hope it wasn’t supposed to be a secret!

Time to put some water in the swimming pool.

I have beautiful grandchildren!

Love, Gramama
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning has dawned on Full Day One of Camp Gramp. Last night we ate mac and cheese with hotdogs and grapes. Then the troops watched a Scooby movie and an episode of Sponge Bob and went to bed, but not to sleep right away. In fact, talking and giggling happened long enough that people were hungry again. I put on my frowny face and told them to go to sleep — which sort of worked.

One cannot complain about 7 a.m., I don’t think. I am sorry, Adam and Brenda, Thane is watching TV with them right now. I am really trying not to corrupt the youth, but …

Today we will go to the beach in the morning, and this afternoon, when our little helper is asleep, we will make our Camp Gramp shirts with tie-dye! How is that for gay dissipation!

Thank you for sharing your children with us!

Love, Gramama
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was smart enough to do the dyeing in the basement and the dye will wash off little hands before you see them. A fun time was had by all. We can open them and wash them out tomorrow night after Thane goes to bed. Call me a coward, we did the tie dye after the 20 month old went to sleep.

Dad had a wonderful day — almost $400 and lots of good information (Note from the Editor: my dad runs a historical picture business called Memories Made Digital. He stayed behind for the local old-timer’s picnic). He sounded excited. He will be here tomorrow morning and an extra set of hands will help.

Oh yes, if you have to go to the bathroom and it is DESPERATE, you can go to the Police station even though you are terrified. And the police officer will come out and give you a badge to stick on your clothing. Then you can discussion how police officers can help you.

How peaceful it feels. I think I will go take my shower and read for a few minutes before I check out for the night. Right now they are sleeping, getting ahead of me on the energy front!

Peace be with you, Gramama

I’m not really looking forward to two transcontinental redeyes in four days with a 4.5 year old and 21 month old, by myself. They’ll sleep, right? Of course they will. No doubt. Heaven help me.

Anyway, in preparation for this great gathering of great-grandkids (ok, there are only five of them, but I did my share), I have cleaned off my memory card. It’s a challenge taking pictures of these kids. Neither one is very interested in, you know, looking at the camera. And they move fast. But still! We have camping. We have the park. We have the town pool. We have the back yard. And we have our pastor with a donkey and a sheep. I like to keep you on your toes.

With no further ado, here they are

http://tiltedworld.com/brenda/pictures/December2008/index.html

But that child wants to be held ALL THE TIME. It’s like he’s some sort of cute helpless infant who just wants his mommy’s arms. I mean, it’s not like anyone can hold him. Just mommy. I forgive him because he DOES go to sleep when I do. Also, it’s the most eminently reasonable thing in the world; for a child to want to be safe in the arms of his mother. But man is it wearying. I spend my days trying to figure out what I actually did with my time. In truth, it’s hard to do things when your child is in your arms almost all your waking hours. But at the same time, doesn’t Thane deserve to be held as much as he wants? He’s a baby. He’s been in the world a grand total of 8 weeks. You probably have Netflix videos older than that. The world gets hard soon enough.

It just makes it hard to: play with Grey, do the dishes, do the laundry (OMG the laundry), clean the house, wrap presents, exercise, stretch my back, cook, write blog posts, upload pictures, or generally do anything that isn’t watching “Avatar: the Last Airbender” (Note to world: we loves our new DVR we does) or read Anne McCaffrey novels.

Coincidentally, I have declared that every single Avatar character is my favorite so far. For reals I think it’s Toff. I wish they’d rebroadcast more of Season 1. I’ve missed almost all of it. And I’m nearly through with all the “Dragon” novels Anne McCaffrey has ever written, including most of the crappy ones. (“All the Weyrs of Pern” — I’m looking at you.)

Also, Thane has perfected the art of figuring out when my bedtime is. I keep TRYING to put him down at like 9 to see if I can shift his schedule a bit and have (GASP) an hour or two to myself or to spend with my husband. But Thane knows that bedtime is 10:30 (my bedtime) and no earlier.

Also, also, he cried more for anyone who is not me, even when he’s fed. It’s really, really hard to listen to your infant cry and not step in.

This time of life is short, I know. I’m far more aware of how finite babyhood is this time than I was last time. And frankly, 1 ain’t much easier than 1 month. (Ah, the dreaded mobility. Thane is already managing a scootch when put on his belly. I tremble.)

Lazy and weary is just an unsatisfying combination of emotions. Also, I find it very hard to be a good parent to both boys simultaneously. I feel like I’m always shorting one of them.

My mother once gave me a very valuable piece of advice: You don’t get through parenthood without guilt. Oh, is she right.

Thane and me