goo goo revisited...

Well, we're just about to start February and we're making some progress in letting go of Sam's beloved binky (a.k.a. the goo-goo.) We started this quest around the beginning of the year. To get the whole story just click here.

Sam only gets his goo-goo at night and then puts it to "bed" each morning. He lays it in his bed and says "night-night goo-goo."

Runner Boy is now introducing the idea of giving up his goo-goo for good.

Tonight at dinner he said to Sam, "Sam you don't need your goo-goo anymore."

He replied, "yes I do."

Runner Boy says, "why Sam?"

Sam replied, "I whan it...because I wike it."

Tonight when we put him to bed he looked up, stuffed his goo-goo in his mouth, picked up one in each hand and closed his blue eyes.

I don't think this will be easy...

jeans vs reality

I made a mistake today. Yup. Made the mistake of looking for a new pair of jeans. Who knew such a quest could result in such an emotional roller coaster.

I haven't purchased a pair of jeans in about 5 years. Ouch. How did that happen? Except that I hate buying clothes and the last pair was a sweet deal that I got in New Orleans before *Katrina* washed the mall away. I paid 12 bucks back then.

So, I left the hospital today with the goal of acquiring a new pair to replace my faded, shredded and comfy jeans. It's not the holes that are the problem...it's where the hole are that have propelled me into this mission.

So, I thought I should go to a kind of upscale mall to get my jeans. That would mean more options and expensive jeans should make my bum look better.

I entered store #1 with confidence. Several styles, lots of colors and sale signs everywhere. Now, when the last time you bought jeans was 2 kids ago, how do you know what size you are? and what style looks best on you? the modern fit? the anne fit? the martin fit? the sexy, curvy 90210 fit? boot cut? straight leg? it has now gotten as complicated to buy jeans as it is to buy bras. I selected my pile and headed into the dressing room.

I tried on a size that should fit...(my confidence begins to waver)...too tight in the thighs...I knew it...I always thought I had big thighs. There is was: the sense that my well-being is attached to the size I wear...and THAT pair of jeans was infringing on my sense of well being and body image. I finished trying on the pile I had in my dressing room. Nothing was right...too tight, too long, too low waisted...

Forget the sale, on to the next store.

My hope was buoyed at the next store. More jeans, more sale signs...but I was willing to go for a full price pair if I find "the pair". I dug through the piles and hauled another stack into the dressing room. By the time I worked through them all, I had dropped 2 jean sizes! The store didn't have my size, but why should I care? The clothing now says I'm thin. So all of the external cues said I'm okay now.

Funny how a little tag hanging on a piece of clothing can change the way people see themselves.

Next store. I am now completely willing to skip the sale signs and look for the upscale and expen$ive jeans. Surely this will help me. I couldn't find the REALLY pricey ones, so I did the best I could. Another pile, another dressing room, more denim...no luck. But, I was still wearing the smaller size. A good thing right?

Nah. I reflected on the experience as I left the mall:

1) it's amazing how many styles of jeans there are. I didn't even make a dent in trying them on.

2) Common denim sewn into jeans with a label slapped on them is very expensive. In fact, if the whole medical thing gets boring, I may start designing jeans.

3) It takes time to find a good pair of jeans. This is a hard concept for who don't like to shop for clothes. I was done after 3 stores and 2 hours. I may have to spend a few weeks to psyche myself up for the next foray into denim.

4) Numbers on a label (also known as the size) don't mean anything. They are not a reflection of worth, value, character, health or self-image. They are a number assigned by a manufacturer and a marketing department. I am not any bigger or smaller tonight that I was this morning. I am made in the image of God. Jeans are made in the image of a brand. I know where I need to draw my value.

So, I will have to head out again to find jeans. I'll still have to deal with which style, color and price range to try, but I will not allow size to set the tone of the event. I just want them to make the bum look better and to have no holes.

friday medical minute...

in the midst of these frozen temperatures in the minus fahrenheit range we bring you a piece of medical advice...

this friday medical moment is brought to you by dr. fracture, his residents dr. mc broken and dr. scutmonkey and myself:

**be careful on the ice**

if you fall, you might break

then you have to see us.

**if you have to see us, please be nice to us**

we didn't break you.

global warming?

not sure about the global warming thing here...

this morning the thermometer on my little car read: -17 degrees F (yeah, that's a minus sign)...

i thought my face was going to fall off on my way across the parking lot to the hospital...

I'll be your barista...

Kate loves to pretend play lately. Her latest is to play a Starbuck*s barista and get me my coffee. Yesterday's conversation went like this...

Kate: You wanna tall peppermint, mocha, caramel hot chocolate?

Me: Yes, I'd love that.

Kate: You wan cripped cream on your tall peppermint mocha caramel hot chocolate?

Me: Yes.

Kate: I need your money. Do you wan dat on 'da *Visa* side or 'da Starbuck*s side?

(side note: I have one of those credit cards that give you benefits to spend at Starbuck*s when you buy things on the card.)

(additional side note: Runner Boy is horrified she knows all about the card, how to use it and how to recite my whole morning coffee interaction.)

Me: Please put that on the Starbuck*s side.

Kate: You don't have any money on da Starbuck*s side, wanna use da credit card?

Me: Sure.

Kate: Okay, here's your coffee.

Oh, yeah, I tipped her...she's a cute little barista...

riding the rails...

Saturday was a big Girls' Day Out in our family. We took the train to *American*Girl*Place* and had a great time.

Our special cousin just had a birthday, so we spent the day celebrating. It was Kate's first big train ride.

...and she was excited!

Kate had no idea that so many dolls could be found in one place. After about an hour, we had to stop for a juice box and a rainbow cookie. That gave her the boost to "press on" shopping with her special 'cuz.

We had so much fun looking at all the dolls, outfits and accessories. There is a restaurant in the store, too. The dining room is so cute and here is a photo of one of the chandeliers just outside the restaurant. ...this has inspired me...

After we at the store and spent some $$$ on fun things, we all split up for a little shopping. Kate and I cruised the mall together and had a great time. She even helped me pick out a new outfit for work.

We needed another pick-me-up after our shopping blitz, so we sampled a little chocolious *Godiva* drink. Kate thought it was just yummy.

It was a great day! Kate was exhausted at the end, however. We were about 10 minutes away from the train station when I heard snoring coming from the back seat. I looked into the rearview mirror to her slumped over in her car seat fast asleep.

so much fun...so tired

A big day...

We went to Chicago today for a special adventure with Kate's cousin...

Look out American*Girl*Store here we come...

snow, snow, snow...

Here is the lovely view from our deck. Doesn't it make you want to shovel off a chair and sip some sweet iced tea?

This here is what we call a roof drift...or a pre-avalanche...or a snow awning...

We grow 'em tough here...no wimpy little sleds. Nooo. Our kids just get out their bikes and plow through the snow.

If they are tired of biking, we snowshoe over to the playground. We pull out the sand buckets and shovels and its snow castle time. If a kid falls off the swing or slide, they hardly notice with the snow cushion and the 15 layers of winter clothes they are wearing.

Who knew 100 feet of snow a year could be so much fun? The hobbies we develop around here are great: roof raking, competitive snow blower races with the neighbors, spinning dough-nuts in the street with your cars...we have a hard time containing ourselves. Runner Boy and I just wish we could stay home and make snow angels all day...

Sea Kittens...revisited...

Runner Boy was concerned that people would think he endorsed the Sea Kitten campaign. He does not. He believes that they are very good dipped in beer batter and deep-fat tried.

Sea Kittens?

Runner Boy didn't believe me when I told him about the campaign

We try to keep up with the news and politics, so it surprises me he didn't already know about it...

Kansas Christmas Memories...

We spent part of our Christmas holidays back on the acreage that Runner Boy grew up on. The kids were so excited to see Grandma & Grandpa and spend time outside. They had 6 cousins to play with and 40 acres to see.

The highlight of the visit for Sam was "Bampa's" tractor. It was tuned up for Sam and he was beside himself.

Look...a scoop of Sam! (No toddlers were injured in the making of this photo.)

Kate was not so sure about the tractor...until her cousin "Sweet heart" got on board. (No preschoolers were involved in driving this tractor.)

Then the tractor started to run low on diesel, so the joy rides ended...and Sam came unglued...a toddler's dreams dashed...a crushing blow to his inner farmer...spectacular screams heard all around the farm...


Please excuse the toddler meltdown there...on to more pleasant topics...

I love the Kansas country side...there are vast fields, windswept prairies and old farm buildings. Runner Boy used to run down the dirt roads around his home training for cross country. When I first visited his childhood home, I was shocked at all the dirt roads...we pave everything in the Frozen Tundra.

Runner Boy grew up playing in the fields, caring for his 4-H animals and playing in the creeks.

It's such a contrast to be in Kansas in comparison to our hectic lives. Maybe that's why it is so appealing.

Whatever the reasons, it's good to touch base with home.

sam

Goo-Goo

The new year is a good time to make changes and move forward. Whether you like it or not, there comes a time when one needs to grow up.

Such is the case with Sam.

Before he was born, I was sure that I would NEVER give him a pacifier. Kate didn't have one, so why should he? My resolution lasted about 3 days. He got circumcised and came back to my hospital room with one in his mouth. I melted--he was miserable and I wanted him to have comfort. Thus, Sam formed a strong bond to his pacifier, which he lovingly dubbed his, "Goo-Goo".

The goo-goo provided comfort through his miserable days with reflux. During that time, he cried for hours with his back arched and legs flailing.

Fast forward to today. Sam is now 2 1/2 and he still loves the goo-goo. Day or night, home or away, he loves it. The problem is that it is now a problem.

When the goo-goo falls out of his mouth at night, does he reach over and put it back in his mouth? Nope. He yells, "Daddy, I need goo-goo." and expects one of his parents to reinsert the pacifier. He has absolutely no interest in helping himself, he just cries until we put it back into his mouth. Makes for a poor night's sleep.

My pediatrician has been encouraging me to take away the pacifier for some time, but I've been resistant. Runner Boy thinks the goo-goo should go, too. Primarily because I sleep through the crying and he ends up with the pacifier re-insertion duty.

I don't want Sam to be sad about the loss of his goo-goo. I dread the tears and distress. But, I think there's even more to the issue. In some ways, giving up the goo-goo is giving up part of his infancy. Not that Sam is trying to hold on to his infancy, I am. Giving up the goo-goo is a form of accepting the fact that he's growing up. He was the baby I held, nursed and cuddled and he's now an active toddler. I can't stop the clock and hold on to those baby days and it's proving to be hard for me.

Runner Boy is having a great time with Sam at this age and can't understand my sadness at all. It perplexes him that I still look over my shoulder and miss the baby days. (Admittedly, Sam was a very difficult newborn.) For me it's the realization the days of brushing my cheek on his baby fuzz are over. No more watching him try to figure out how to grab his toes. We're done with those fantastic little grins during tummy time. That brings a bittersweet tear.

With the realization that I need to let go of the pacifier as much as Sam, I had to come to terms with what is best for him now. So, yesterday we started to transition away from the goo-goo. He can now just have it at nap & bed time. Eventually, it will go away all together. Yesterday went fine, but I found him trying to reach through his crib slats today to grab it for comfort. I bit my lip, took it away until nap time and distracted him.

I know that he'll be fine. I know that there are many memories to be made as he grows and matures becomes time moves on.

But, I will miss his goo-goo, too.

quotable quotes

Kate's first quotes of 2009...

"Mom, you're a rock star!"



"Mom, I don't like it when I don't like things..."



I'm sure there are more coming!