Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
It was finally time to line up. And then a mother's worst fear. "Mom, I'm hungry." I guess I forgot to grab snacks for the kids. I must not have been thinking about their blood sugar getting low. I unpacked the bottom of Naomi's car seat and fished through my purse. Perfect! A smushed granola bar and a bag of 100 calorie cheez-its. They were satisfied. After what seemed like hours...it was finally our turn. The kids lined up anxiously on the starting line. It was as if a years worth of training had built up for this one moment. The anticipation was almost unberable. The man's voice blarred over the loud speaker. "On your mark..get set...the kids flung forward as he yelled, GO." We were off. The start of the race was bumpy and Naomi almost flew out of her car seat, but that wasn't going to deter us from taking this thing head on. We had come to win. Moments into the race, Jake seemed to get tired. Soon after, William came running back to me in tears. It was too hard. I told them it wasn't an option to quit. We had come to race and we were going to finish. Afterall, if mom had to hold them...they wouldn't get a medal. William's mouth dropped as he gasped, "Oh." He was off. We were all panting when a nice lady started cheering us on. "You're already half way!" "What?" I said. A 1K can seem extremely long with three kids and no husband to help. After the medal comment, William never stopped running. He had a goal. Jake, on the other hand, was a different story. I picked him up and ran after William. We finally crossed the finish line. We had done it! Our Firsr 1K. As we crossed the finish, all three kids were handed a medal. We immediatley hit the Goody Bag line and found some super cool prizes and a bagel for breakfast. I will never forget looking over at William with his hands on his kness, and his head down panting. "That was hard, mom." I know dude...but you won a medal." He looked around him and in distress noticed, "Mom, it looks like everyone got medals."
We were exhausted. Perhaps, everyone did get a medal. Perhaps, we would have done better had our blood sugar not been so low. Perhaps, maybe if daddy would have been there to run super fast with the boys, Naomi and I wouldn't have slowed everybody up. Perhaps, a lot of things. But most important, our first race was a success. We did it! All four of us! Daddy will be so proud.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
"Even Spiderman Has a Bad Day Every Once in a While"
I want to make a poster out of this and hang it in the Children's ER becasue James says that there are way too many accidents that could be prevented if kids wore their helmets. We are now Big proponents of Bike Safety.
The poster is going to say,
"Even Spiderman Wears a Helmet"
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
I love that when somebody finds out that my husband is a pediatrician, they all say something in the way of, "oh, you are so lucky," or, "how convienent". If they only knew. James and I both had physicain fathers. As a result, James lived with a herniated disk in his back for over a year. His dad told him just to live with it and to stop playing basketball. James finally took himself to the doctor after a year and was scheduled for surgery. When I didn't feel well, my dad would just prescribe me something that was probably the drug of the day and sent me one on my. I have promised myself to not let my kids be victim of a physicain father who claims that if his kids are still breathing... let them be. This promise to myself was put to the test yesterday. Naomi woke up yesterday morning screaming like I have never before heard. Her nose has been running for about a week and she was slobbering all over her clothes. The shrieking scream that lasted for over two hours was finally becoming less and less toleralbe...both for her and I. Luckily, Jake didn't seem to phased. Probably neglected middle child syndrome. I paged James and told him Naomi's symptoms. His response. "Don't take her in. She probably just has a virus." I hung up the phone and was at the end of my rope. This was not normal behavior for my four month old. The shrieking continued. I waited 15 minutes and decided to give in to my maternal instinct. The phone call was made. Two hours later I was in the pediatrician's office. The very office that James was scheduled to work at in less than two hours. He would be on his way from the hospital in a short time and I had to make sure that I was out of the clinic before he arrived...just in case nothing was wrong. The nurse checked us in and I threatened her life that if nothing was wrong with my baby, she was not to tell James that I had been in that morning. She laughed and said that she would let the other nurses and doctors know. The doctor saw us and within 5 minutes I had a prescription for a "very nasty" ear infection. I was elated. Instead of telling the nurses to let let James know that I was in, I gave them permission to do the exact opposite. The physicain that James works under told me that he would give him a hard time for me and that he, himself, let his own son live with a broken wrist for a year. Poor physican's kid. It's not like they don't have health insurance. Upon James' arrival home, we greeted each other with a warm smile. He simply asked, "how was your day today?" "Terrible," I retorted. "How was your day?" "Great, as soon as I got to the clinic everyone in the office found me and said, "ohhhh, you're in trouble tonight." He said that they all had a good time making fun of him. I am grateful for a husband who can laugh at life and the experiences that we share. We both had a good laugh. James told me that the nurses said that the funniest part of our visit was that Jake was dressed in his Spiderman outfit and as I was waiting to check out with a screaming baby, Jake was running around the clinic webbing everyone. They said that I was completely clueless to what was going on. Again, neglected middle child. My son, dressed as Spiderman, was off shotting people with pretend webs while I was rocking a screaming car seat, signing papers and pacing back and forth. I smile when I think of the image of our family that was left at the clinic yesterday. A pediatrician who doesn't believe when his own kid is sick, a mother coming in thretening the nurses not to tell her husband that she was there, a 3 year old dressed as Spiderman webbing everybody he saw, and a four month old baby shrieking at the top of her lungs. I am sure that the office on West Market Street sighed a big sigh of relief when they said good bye to the Ford family...even if only for a few days.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
I love my Smooch. Now, we all know why he has his nickname. Ever since he could eat, he refuses to eat off off his own plate. I mean, it used to be funny, and sometimes it still is, but sometimes, it's not. Some nights I choose to eat standing up, becasue I know if I sit down, Jake will get a huge grin on his face, jump, up, say, "I want momm'y's food," walk across the table and sit down right in front of my mouth...where I usually like to eat myself. Just thinking of that huge smile endears me to this spirited kid we call "smooch". Today was Smooch's first day of preschool. He did awesome. Since it was Jakey's Special day, he chose to make a Spiderman Cake to celebrate his first day of school. William helped him frost it. Note: Black Spiderman is laying caught in his own web. A very interesting thought.
Jake is my little boy who lives on the edge. By doing so, I also live on the edge. The edge of his edge. When watching Jake, one cannot sit down. There can be no sudden head turns, twists or tucks. A movement by the person in charge signals to his three-year old brain that he has a second of freedom...and you will pay. Jake's constant activity is a constant reminder to me to live every breath to the fullest. Life is too short to sit...so he makes sure that none of us do.
I will never forget when Smooch was running in the middle of the street in Iowa. I sternly went over to him and told him that he could not go past the curb. If he did, tabasco sauce was waiting for him. I went to sit down. I shouldn't have. There he was...teetering on the curb. He looked up at me and smiled. An innocent smile. There he went. He fumbled on the curb as he walked, and walked and walked. The curb was the line of tabasco sauce. He got as close as he could...and never got off.
As I think about my one and only Smooch, I cannot help but smile a great smile. He is the boy who wakes me up at night, refuses to let me eat a meal in peace, and walks through life on the curb. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for this little guy who has taught me that a beautiful, innocent and bright eyed grin can make anything and everything seem so wonderful.