Rabid An(imal)sel

 It's been 10 days since Ansel's tonsillectomy and little dude is not doing well.  

I should say, not doing well at night.  He wakes up every two hours just screaming like a banshee.  I don't mean to sound like I'm making fun.  It's just factual.  He wakes up every two hours all night long and is just out of his mind.  

He is clearly in a lot of pain (at night. Totally seemingly fine during the day.)  And there's nothing more we want to do than to fix that.  But he has also gotten it into his head that taking Tylenol or ibuprofen is worse than death.  Or at least worse than his throat/jaw pain.  Or at least he hasn't been able to recognize that the medicine is actually helping him instead of being an elaborate way we torture him.  

So he screams when he wakes up.  He screams when we come into his room to try and help.  He screams when we pick him up.  He screams when we don't pick him up.  He screams if I offer to squeeze the little medicine syringe.  He screams when we ask him if he wants to do it instead.  He screams if we offer him ice water with a green (his favorite color) bendy straw instead. He screams if I look at the "wrong wall."

The only time he stops screaming is if we give him the medicine syringe (after he screams "I'LL ONLY TAKE IT IF YOU GO AWAY!") and leave the room.  And we fall for this every. single. time.  Why?  Because it's 1:30am on a Tuesday morning and we've been up at 9:30pm, 10:45 pm, and 12:00 am so far.  And we sit outside of his room and wait.  And slowly the screams stop.  And then we get hopeful.  And go into the room...only to find he's fast asleep with the full medicine syringe still in his fist.  

So far tonight this has happened three times.  In a row.  I keep letting it happen because I don't know how I could pin his arms down, steady his head, and get the medicine in his mouth + actually swallowing it while he's screaming at the top of his tiny lungs.  (And it's Paul's turn to get to sleep tonight - bunkered downstairs, insulated from banshee noise.)

Finally, during this last 'bout, at a complete loss, I finally grabbed the syringe and shot 1 ml (out of the 7.5 he needs) directly into the back of his screaming mouth.  Just to try and break him out of this screaming loop or something!  Anything!  In the darkness I couldn't tell if anything actually went down his throat, but at least he realized I meant business. 

It took five more minutes of sneak-squirting mini shock medicine bullets into his screaming mouth and having him react with surprise/betrayal/horror each time until I think, I hope, some actually made it into his stomach and I'd "finished" the dose.  You'd have thought he'd realize what was coming each time, but no it was the same level of "you traitor, you're trying to kill me" from him every time.  But after I was done, he immediately collapsed back onto his pillow, suddenly and shockingly in silence, and fell asleep in a literal second.  

I do NOT know how to break him of this screaming in the night reaction to pain.  I'm SURE it's actually making things worse for him.  I only want him to finally get some sleep and get some painkiller.  The last five nights have honestly been so much of The Worst.  Mostly for him!  At least I get to sleep in the bunker basement bed every other night.

I'll close this out with a portrait of daytime Ansel to try and balance things.  He calls floss, "sloth".   "Mommy, can I have some sloth?"  "I need to sloth my teeth."  We will never correct him.  Sort of like how he still talks about "salami (tsunami) waves."

From 2am, I'm closing this out by hoping my sneak medicine attack means we both get to sleep a little more than two hours now.

The Lasso Train

 

We jumped on the Ted Lasso train tonight.  Just thought I should let the internet know.

(So far it's the best.)

Hello. I'm 37 Now.

 I realized I was 37 yesterday.  

Just sitting on the couch.  Minding my business.  When all of the sudden I realized I was thirty-seven.  Do you understand what I'm saying?  DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM SAYING?!

I was fifteen years old when my mom was 37 (?).  My dad was working for the United States' House of Representatives when he was 37 (?).

What.  "Wut."

I take comfort in the (many.  many.) articles and studies and graphs and tables that tell my generation, over and over, that we actually have a life progress handicap of something like 10 years compared to our parents.  So really, me at 37 is actually them at 27.  

Actually this is not comforting now that I think about it again.

But it seems generally true if I get specific.  I probably have close to (or...actually less than...most likely) the same salary my Dad did when he was 27.  My parents had a five year old and a one year old when they were 27.  That's not too far off my mark now.  I'm fairly confident they were driving old, used, four-door sedans they had had since early in their marriage when they were 27 - hey, sounds familiar.  

I could say that at 37 we're a bit "ahead" of them at 27 because our degrees maybe?  I had two masters degrees before I turned 30.  Paul got a PhD right before he turned 30.  But sometimes I wonder if we would have gotten those degrees if, well, if there had been any jobs to go to that had any stability or promise or pathway.  School was the way we could try and wait things out in that second half of the 2000s.  A way that felt like it was safer for our resumes and long-term prospects, even though it meant our retirement account balance was literally $0 until we were 32.  (Don't even get me started on how "vesting requirements" took us right back down to practically $0 again when we moved a few years ago.)

But see now, here's the thing.  If me at 37 is them at 27...then that's not great.  Because my hip already hurts when I try to jog a quarter mile.  Me at 37 is not the same as me at 27.  Physically.  Mentally.  I don't have ten extra years hanging around in me to just coast on into retirement.  I will be just as tired just as early - I don't magically get some secret power so that I get 10 extra years of youth because I was born in 1984.  BUT I'M JUST GOING TO HAVE TO DEAL WITH THAT.

I am frustrated hearing that same Peter Pan-ish drumbeat...so frustrated -- "30 is the new 20!"  "40 is the new 30!"...  But I don't feel 27...  I feel 37.  Because I am 37.

And look.  We're fine.  We use this phrase a lot now.  "Look at us.  Look - we're doing fine.  We're so lucky. We're going to be ok."  But it's an odd tone we take.  I think because we realize sometimes that our measurement of "fine" is in comparison to the bulk of our generational peers, but not necessarily in comparison to quantitative benchmarks of security ("Your Mint.com app wants to show you how your net worth compares to other 30-somethings in your area!"  But not: "Mint.com wants to show you if you're on track for being able to occasionally eat out when you're 75.").  I have no doubt that if my parents, at 37, had the same investment portfolio we have right now, that they would NOT be laying in bed at night and whispering to the ceiling how grateful they were that they were doing fine.  They probably wouldn't be sleeping at all.  

But this is what fine is now for us of the millennial type.  Fine is saying, "We can pull from our emergency fund to pay the $5000 for our son's surgery next month."  Fine is saying, "I'm so glad interest rates are so low because it will make that loan we need to fix the bathroom easier to pay off."  Fine is saying, "We could make things work with just one car, if we need it...We really could..."    And sincerely saying all those things with complete gratitude.

I got on here to quip some joke about realizing I was old, really realizing it.  That took a turn.  

But look here.  We're actually fine, you know.  We're fine.

WELCOME TO MY BLOG THAT IS NOW ABOUT BEING OLD AND RESPONSIBLE FOR THINGS!

Wednesday Things

I've been reading (/gazing-at) the book Dinotopia with the dudes, mostly Hadrian, the last few weeks.  It's a good one that I think too many people have forgotten.  The paintings and illustrations alone!  Hadrian takes it to his room most nights just to look at as he falls asleep. I bought the first one - we're going to check out the sequel from the library.  Might buy that one too if it's even close to the first.

Hadrian's trying out Taekwondo, starting on Monday.  He's very excited to learn about "being a ninja and kicks and stuff."  He may be sliiiiightly disappointed in what he learns at the community rec center.  But this was the thing he said he wanted to try out.  

Pic is Hadrian in my grandpa's pilot hat/goggles from the 50s/60s.

Ansel still talks like a baby?  Oh well.  He wants to practice his new pedal bike every day. We're still getting the hang of the concept of pedaling in general at this point.  

Today he came with me to find some ladybugs and we released them after dinner on one of our Box Elder trees that's become a bit overrun with aphids.  We'll see if it makes a difference.  At the very least, we've given 500 ladybugs a good chance at life.  

Also I was thinking about how he never speaks loudly - doesn't really yell either.  I wonder if his tonsils make it so he can't be loud?  Not sure.  Just an idea.  

He's very much into helping with cooking and baking.  He and I made some chocolate raspberry lava cakes in mugs last week - which were delicious.  Two thumbs up to our new kids cookbook.  It's been all winners so far.

For the first time in Paul's entire life, he had a "beginning of a cavity."  He took the news very hard.  I think part of his identity may have been "person who has perfect dental health" and was thrown into a bit of a crisis this week.  He got a filling today - was very nervous about it - and when he came home couldn't stop talking about how weird it felt to have a numbed face.  Kept trying to do simple face things and sending me pics of his attempts while I was in meetings.  Here was, "Trying to make a kissy face."  I'd just hear him out in the kitchen laughing  and then get a picture on my phone a few seconds later.  

We made Spaghetti alle Vongole tonight (aka just clam pasta).  Something we made a few times in Denmark and more in Georgia.  It was one of toddler Hadrian's, and Paul's, favorite meals, but we'd completely forgotten about it. Harmon's came through for us with a pound and a half of (as fresh as we could get in Utah) littleneck clams and we had it all made in 25 minutes.  It was just as good as we all remembered too though Ansel was unconvinced.  He stuck to his banana and buttered bread.  

Both kids had a chance to sleep over at the grandparent's new house last weekend and basically it's all they talk about right now.  While they were gone, Paul and I kind of stayed in our regular routine - which I know sounds boring, but it was kind of nice to do the same things, just slightly less harried and slightly more quiet.  We still got our Friday Night Costa Vida Salads (a habit/tradition that came out of the pandemic), watched a documentary, read, fell asleep.  In the morning we did some yardwork, went on a walk (to get some Boba Tea from University Place), took naps, read books.  I think if there was a hierarchy of who had the best weekend there it was #1 - obviously the boys, #2 - us, #3 - my exhausted parents.  We thank them for their sacrifice.

Oh yeah P.S. Hadrian got into the Chinese Program (or so they tell me but I'm still scared because it was all just over the phone and not in writing and maybe it's all a trick I don't even know but I really hope it's true it's probably true?).  So that means Ansel will almost definitely get in as well.  Which means I guess we should start saving up for a China trip in a few years.  

 

Sunday

 

Got Hadrian's passport renewed.  It came yesterday.  Apparently he's now "Adrian".  So....that's...not going to work out for us.  Now we have to figure out how to get that fixed.  I hope we can...easily.

Also please admire his whale picture with washi tape ocean.

Ansel is solidly in a "talk like a baby" phase.  It's...weird?  

Today we went on a walk, just us four, around the neighborhood.  We played Hadrian's favorite game, "Guess the Animal" (basically a form of 20 questions) as we looped around some roads they'd never been on before.  Lovely, perfect day for it.  And fun to just talk with them.  

I had a long weekend and I'm in denial about going back to work tomorrow.  I'm worried that's maybe not a good sign about my work?  Or maybe it's because I had such a nice time being with family.

This summer, our little school the boys go to has had to increase their summer camp prices to more than double the regular school-year prices.  It would mean, for both boys to go over the summer, about $2880/mo.  Which we just won't be able to do.  So we're going to wade into the world of 30 hr/week nannies.  It's a little intimidating to try and figure out how to post an ad and interview and hire someone.  But being by two very large universities, I think we'll have a good pool of student candidates?  I'm not sure.  It will be...interesting.

Nothing in Particular

 

Made this banner to celebrate my parents' full vaccination, but taped the second word on backwards.  We're been trotting out the Noitaniccav banner for our own vaccination milestones too.

It will soon be the best month of the year.  The month in which I basically get two parties for myself, approximately only one week apart.  And I get to plant stuff.  This year I think we're getting 9-13 different kinds of tomatoes.  Just for fun.  

Yesterday (for me) and today (for Paul), we are now, as best a family can be, officially vaccinated against COVID-19.  The first thing I did was restart my Orange Theory membership.  It was weird to be back in that little gym - but I was so glad that I wasn't so scared anymore.  Some things were different, but most was the same.  I liked seeing the old couple I remembered and feeling how the treadmills are still awesome (they have some kind of...bouncy give? to them that is really satisfying).  I absolutely lost basically...all...the tiny gains in upper body strength I had made last-last winter though.  I did one bicep curl on the weight I remembered using before and literally laughed out loud.  Oh well.  That's all to be expected.  Point is, I burned 550 calories in an hour and today I can't lift my arms over my head and I'm so happy about it.

Paul is so excited to go back to the UVU gym too.  Apparently their treadmills have screens that make it look like you're running through various places in Germany/England/Spain/France/Switzerland.  He's excited to "travel" again.

On the information sheet I had to fill out to get my membership going again, it asked me, "When were you in your best physical condition?"  For me it had to be senior year in college when I was on the Ballroom Team (not the fancy one. The "locally-touring" one).  I was dancing 1-2 hours every day and just walking to-from classes and my apartment.  I wasn't "working out" at all.  I've never been very interested in "working out" actually.  Much better if it's built into my day - living in Boston without a car, working and going to school on a sprawling campus, only having bikes in Europe.  I miss living in places designed to make simple built-in healthy things the norm.  It's one of the main reasons we looked in this very particular neighborhood actually.  On the face of it, it's not any different than any other place.  But it's a mile away on connected sidewalks to quite a lot of things.  Parks, library, two very nice mall/commercial/entertainment complexes, schools, a ton of restaurants, Trader Joes...  I hope we can figure out how to take advantage of that more.

What else....mmm.  We think we finally have enough saved to repipe our house.  We're getting quotes this week on that.  It will be a huge pain but also a huge relief to just get it over with.

We're finally going to Oregon again - after the pandemic shut down our UVU Field Trip in 2020.  In a way, this may be better because we won't have to worry about a bunch of students too.  On this first return, I think it's good to just be us.  We've rented a little one bedroom house by Bastendorff Beach and we'll road trip there and back.  I'm looking forward to it so much.

Oh and we also did our first mini family trip over a long weekend a couple weeks ago when we were in-between vaccinations.  We went to say goodbye to my grandmother (who is fully vaccinated thanks to me and my sisters, and who is moving to AZ) in St. George.  Man.  St. George.  It's like a whole thing now.  I never thought much of St. George but this last trip we kept looking at each other and saying....maybe we should....do this more often?  Snow Canyon was particularly great with the two boys.

Then we drove the loooooong way home through Zion, on the 12, past Bryce, through Grand Staircase, through Boulder Mountain (BOULDER MOUNTAIN!  Who knew??).  Spent the night in Torrey and did the Hickman Bridge hike with the boys the next morning in Capitol Reef. (And, of course, had some pie in Fruita.) It was kind of ridiculously idyllic.

Also?  ALSO. Grand Staircase Escalante???  Route 12??????  It's SO amazing and weird and beautiful.  That was maybe in my top 5 best drives I've ever done.  

Scene

5am. 

3-year old opens the bedroom door and whisper-yells, "I need to go potty! Mom! I neeeeeed to go potty! Mom! MOM!" as he stands immediately adjacent to the hallway bathroom. 

I whisper-yell back, "Ok. Go potty." 

Him: "OK!" Exit to potty. 

Fin

The 3-Year Wall

Sunday mornings are very therapeutic.  One of us goes downstairs and sets out a breakfast for the boys, the other sets up PBS Kids video streaming.  And then we get an entire morning - 6:00am - 9:00am to talk.

This morning I was hand-waving about how I can't quite pin it down but there's some impending mental breakdown or disturbance in the force or something that I see coming.  Something's just starting to feel weird here.  Was it all the stress and bursts of frustration and fear that came with this crazy COVID-y year?  Is it this latent problem I have of feeling that I no longer am welcome in a culture that I grew up being told was the only place I'd ever belong?  Was it because Harmon's has been completely out of Clausen's Dill Pickles for four weeks in a row?  What was it?

And Paul, in his imminently Paul way (I don't know how to describe this), responded simply, "It's the 3-Year Wall."

"The what?"

"You know.  The 3-Year Wall.  We're coming up on the wall."

"The...what?"

And then he goes on to point out that our entire adult lives (and pretty much my entire LIFE life) we've never lived in a place longer than 3 years.  We've actually never lived at a single address for longer than 2.5 years before.  And in July, we're going to cross that 3-year line here in Utah.

And so everything feels weird because everything in us is saying that it's time to leave and try something completely new.  Time to start giving everything away and researching bike paths and "best restaurants" in wherever-we-go-next.  Time to start the emotional distancing to spare us too much pain when we have to say goodbye.  Time to go.  But instead, we're....not.  For the foreseeable future.

"Yeah, I feel it too.  Even at work." Paul went on.  "I keep thinking, 'Well, what now? What next?'  And I think it's even stronger because of tenure coming up.  I don't have a life template after that.  It was always, 'Just make it to tenure.' but I didn't think about what to do after that.  Not that it's all bad.  It means I can do anything I want really.  But it's strange.  So much time and freedom with no obvious structure."

"Yeah!  And!" I jumped in, "Like, my whole life template was basically to go to BYU, graduate/get married, and have kids.  But now, we're not having any more kids.  And so, what's the template for life...for...for I mean the majority of my life?  The rest of my life??"

We thought about all this in silence for a while.  

A very enthusiastic bird sang on our windowsill.

So! I said.  We'll make a plan.  AND here's what we need to do first: we need to figure out the distinct cultural regions of the United States...

Twelve and a Half Years

 

There was a whole plan, you know.  

From the first time we heard that one of the biggest celebrations in Denmark was your 12.5 Year anniversary, we started to make the plan.  

It was going to be St. Patrick's Day 2021.  

I knew exactly what kind of green gown I was going to track down (as much as I hate shopping for clothes, I was going to actually try for this one.)  

Paul was going to get his first brand new suit in 20 years.  It was going to be custom, tailored.  Whatever he wanted to make it.

We knew we weren't going to get the Danish treatment on the whole thing - it's not part of the culture here.  So no half-arch garland on our door (though we have the perfect entryway for that right now), no neighbors and family banging on pots and pans to wake us up in the morning.  We wouldn't open the window in our pajamas and robes and wave and say "Thank you for coming!" and give everyone a showy kiss.  We wouldn't invite everyone in to have donuts and hot chocolate or tea to warm up.  As cool as all of that would have been, I knew that was probably too much to ask there.  

But, we still had an Americanized plan.

We were going to send out real invitations in January.  With real RSVP cards.  

And we were going to invite 15ish of our closest friends and family to have dinner at Sundance, on us.  

And we would make some appropriately grand entry and everyone would cheer and we would eat really great food in a beautiful place all together.  And I'd give this amazing speech and wouldn't even cry a little bit.  And people would tell fun stories about the existence of Paul and Heidi, the couple.  Maybe I'd actually get over my phobia and play and sing something for the first time in 15 years - but only if it would actually be good and not at all cringey.  

But what no one else would know was that, the two of us in our suit and dress, we had found some beautiful spot on the mountain somewhere and married ourselves all over again right beforehand.  That would have been the real event right there.  But just for us.  And a really, really impressive bouquet.

So there was a whole plan, you know?  

Well, the world decided that we just weren't going to hit St. Patrick's Day 2021 right on the nose for a big party.  That's alright.  We'll postpone - it's the fashion to postpone things at the moment.  

And maybe it will still end up being exactly like we planned - just in 6 months or a year.  Maybe we'll change it up completely because we'll already be fudging the date.  Maybe we'll just go to Costa Rica.

But I at least wanted to note today, since it's been on our mental calendar for years and years.  

Here it is!  Happy 12 1/2 Year Copper Anniversary to us!  

We'll order some delivery Indian food tonight.  With mango lassi.