Moving Through Rooms.

My Grandpa (well, my husband's) but he is mine too, passed away last Sunday. His funeral was yesterday. It was a celebration of his life and many memories were shared. The night he passed away my husband and I sat in the dark with "hey, remember . . ." We have lived in their and now our house for 5 years now and that night in the dark my husband would show me where there was a newspaper clipping of him, a certain picture, or gadget of Grandpa's. We can move through rooms and know what furniture piece, like their full (he was rather tall) bed used to stand. We have changed (I wouldn't say exactly updated, the roof yes, but most things no) rooms. When he died I went through each room to see what was the same, what still remained, existed from them, our Grandparents. I was comforted by much. Pink and gold speckled bathroom floor. Check. Grey and white 50's kitchen counter top (I have seen the matching table at antique stores). Check. Burn mark on linoleum kitchen floor. Check. When someone is gone, it makes you want to grab onto those extensions of them even more. I stand where Grandma washed dishes and I too, use the clothesline where Grandma would hang the wash to dry. I see Grandpa in an oil stain in the garage. An oil stain from years of fixing, coaxing engines into power. As family members looked through treasures lost, we came across pictures of the house. It had been snowing and Grandma was standing on the back porch. The next picture was her standing in the doorway of the front mud room porch. This reminds me of Harold, who probably said, okay now let's get one of you in the back. Alright, how about the front. We have taken those exact pictures with snow but without grandma. I need a copy of those, that's for sure.

(Ground Smashing) Songs to

run thighs into the ground & dance wildly to,
when bad things just won't go away:

Abel: The National (a personal fav. of Lo and myself, having something to do with the reoccurring words "My mind's not right.)
Mind's Eye: Josh Ritter (you better bring a shovel and be expecting the worst.)
Debaser: The Pixies
Golden Age of Radio: Josh Ritter
Creep: Radiohead
Plasticities: Andrew Bird (they'll fight for precious territory.)
Drop Down Dead: The Housemartins (self-explanatory, refer to title.)

These are a few of the very long and much needed list.

Goodnight Moon and Goodbye Dad!

Last night Brett and Gabe were lying down in Gabe's bed reading, the usual, a little Goodnight Moon and Monkey books. He will get down, pull a book off his shelf and hand it over, saying "don't read it yet, don't read it yet," while climbing back onto his bed. He got situated and then told Brett to "goot over." Brett didn't quite understand him and didn't do it fast enough, because he then said with authority "Ge ow of ma woom" (translation: Get out of my room.) He then looked and me and said "Mommy, lay down." I guess Brett got the boot.

He is stringing many words together now and definitely makes us laugh. He loves to play the harmonica and will sing his goodnight noodle song. He is playing a gig with his band (himself and his care bear) right now, singing away, pounding the keyboard, and of course shaking the maracas, instead of taking a nap.

The Vomit Chronicles.

I really am not going to give a historical account of facts and events related to vomit. It seems like many of my blog entires are related to this topic, however, and if you add them up I am recording my vat of vomit life. Camille has had major issues with vomit her entire existence and they have escalated. We have been working on solving her sleep issues and vomiting for some time now. She is on new medication which made her very sick (yes, more vomiting. She is taking the medication to make the vomiting stop and now we have moved to another one that has the same side effects but a different name. We will be experimenting with this tonight. I hate medications and have a hard time taking ibuprofen, let alone being the one to decide what harsh meds my child will take. Really stressful times manifest in multiples, at least in my family. When Gabe gets sick it just hits him. He woke up from his nap yesterday and was having a hard time breathing. I ran out of albuterol and needed the doctor to call some in to my pharmacy. Last night around 7, it was finally ready. Gabe and I were standing in line when he began to horrendously vomit, down my shirt, in my purse, soaking entire articles of our clothing, not to mention splattering the floor. A nice man reached for a small box of tissues and handed them to me. I was thankful for his help, but in my head I was like this isn't even going to come close. I ran to the bathroom while he sent his son to get someone for the mess. I stripped our coats and tried to wipe off what I could. Gabe was not happy about being left in puke stained clothing and seemed to say with his cries, mom, why am I still wearing these? I really wish I could have taken them off but then we would be naked. I walked out gracefully, donning my new look of orange glop streaking my entire t-shirt. While we returned to the pharmacy line, well there wasn't a line, one lady was being helped in front of me. That didn't really matter because I think their mission was to help everyone but me. While Gabe cried and was heavily wheezing, they called a young guy, in his 20's who had been loudly chatting and appeared to me to be gleefully doing it, to get claim his prescription. He apologized as he went to collect. The lady who was being helped in front of me was relaying her life story. Okay, kind of like what I am doing but hopefully you aren't covered in puke as you are reading this. After I finally get the albuterol, they made me sign off with a pharmacist even though my son has taken it since birth. I moved to the right and waited for her while she was on the phone. She then asked if I minded if she helped another man, again someone not standing in wet reeking clothes with a crying child attached to the hip. Are you kidding me? She eventually addressed me, while still on the phone, relaying to me that it will help open his airways. Yes, again, he has taken this since birth. I am sure I know more than you. Again, in my head and I am a bit upset and getting mean by now. I had visited this pharmacy earlier in the day to pick up Camille's new medication and I wasn't too impressed with another pharmacist's knowledge about the drug she would be taking. Pretty sure they don't see it come through very often since he had no idea what it was. He said he had to look at the printout, which I could do on my own. Once he glanced at it, he said to discontinue use if she started hallucinating and mentions a spider the size of a dog coming down from the ceiling. Good to know. I am sure I will keep you, yes, the one person who may read this post about spiders and of course more vomit, which my son continued to do every two hours between neb treatments. Life is good.

We Live In Our Hats and Send Our Love to Wisconsin!

Can't Wait for the Sun to Enjoy the Outdoors. Hot Chocolate and Balloons are a Requirement.

Saturday, we decided to have a picnic at one of our favorite Bellingham parks across the street from one of the places we lived while Brett returned to school. We froze but were happy to be outside and then, of course, as a reward for choosing numb hands we went to Lafeen's (the best donut place, Brett and I would walk to, for oh, so tasty donuts and hot chocolate, all for exercise). Well, that is what we would tell ourselves.

Before settling down for our picnic, the kids wanted to play. I am not sure where I was but when I sat down at the table Camille was on her way over to the balloon man. Brett had told her that the balloon man had come and was giving away yes, balloons. As she was waiting, the man seemed a little hesitant about giving this girl, who he didn't know and was not invited to his son's Batman birthday party, a balloon. Yes, Brett had told her to go and crash some kid's party. We definitely figured it out when we saw mom's holding party favor bags. I was waiting for him to nab one of those and a slice of cake.



Gabe had a little trouble getting his hat just right.

Camille had fun digging a hole, a hole that Gabe fell into when he backed his truck up. Did she have this planned?