In the Kitchen

 The kids went away with Chris and came back with a freshly laid egg. Which I didn't know about right away. When I discovered it (Vivian tearing into the kitchen at top speed, yelling, "it's cracked! I think it's hatching!"), we set up a spot for it, where I can keep an eye on it.

After a few texts to my brother who has actually raised chickens, it's doubtful it will hatch. Which is fine, since I really don't need a chicken, or duck, or goose, because they are all possibilities. 

The unclear part is what happened to the eggs that Lanie and Sam had, but I don't think they ever even made it to the car, so I'm not worry about them.

The Great Squirrel Rescue

I took Lanie for a scooter ride the other day, she was naturally dressed like Elsa, and I had Jack on his leash. Sam was supposed to be playing online Risk with a friend. That involves being on Google Hangout and Risk at the same time, preferably on two different devices. Chris wasn't home.

So Lanie and I got about 5 houses down when my the mom of Sam's friend starting texting that it wasn't working. I told Lanie we had to go back when she spotted a squirrel lying on it's side, smack in the middle of the sidewalk. She peered at it and had a very hard time leaving it, meanwhile Jack wanted to play with it or eat it, unclear.
I finally get Lanie turned around to go back to the house. We got the front and I asked her to wait for me. I went inside to get Sam up and running, and finally got the friend and his mom on Google Hangout, just as Lanie burst in to tell the kids that she found an injured squirrel. They were out the door in a flash, barefoot, and I was left holding the iPad trying to explain. So I chased them down the street, with the iPad and the dog. Of course the iPad cut out a few houses down so we had to repeat the whole exercise.
I got Sam back inside with and finally set up, the dog inside and went back outside to find Vivian with a snow shovel with the squirrel on it parading up the street with Lanie/Elsa. To make it even better, the whole time this had been happening, a neighbor was being socially distance surprised for her birthday by family with a cake and balloons. So my children ran around them to get to the squirrel, to return to the house, and then to "rescue" the squirrel.

Long story short, Vivian built the squirrel a nest, with a roof (because it was raining and windy during this whole experience). They cut it up apple and got it water and wanted me to go to our neighbor who is a vet to get advice. I didn't. Eventually the squirrel somehow propelled itself out of it's nest and lay on the ground next to it, still breathing. I was trying to put together a raised garden bed, but was getting updates on the squirrel (who they thought perhaps had Coronavirus or a head injury). 

 The squirrel did not make it through the night and when Chris finally reappeared, he got to bury it. The big kids understood but were really sad. Lanie thought his mommy squirrel "took him to her nest, because his brother and sister squirrel were very sad. Then she gave him medicine and a treat, that was one single cupcake."

 Just to completely make the whole experience as traumatic as possible, the children decided to make time capsules. This was a great project that took a few hours. (I did have to talk them out of putting $20 in it though, which apparently they had done in the past). So of course, the first place Vivian digs,  there is the squirrel tail. I heard her gasp and turned around to see the fluffy tail.

The buried the capsules in a new location, next to my raised bed that I somehow completed. The squirrel can rest in peace.

Fridge Problems

Every evening the floor under the fridge was wet, so Chris finally called the repairman.

I mean, it's nice that it's an easy fix.

Jack's Adventure

Jack went on a long adventure yesterday when we all left the house. We went to get ice-cream and I dropped Sam and Chris back off at the house to take the girls onto the park. When they got in, the kitchen door was open and Jack was no where to be found.

I arrived back from the park to find our neighbor pacing up and down the street looking for Jack. Chris and Sam were out combing the neighborhood, so I put a cranky Lanie in the stroller and set out with her and Vivian.  Of course by that time Jack was long gone. We checked various areas he might explore, including the park where dogs go to play.

Lanie whimpered occasionally, "I want my Jack.  I want to see him."
Vivian plodded along calling for him and asked sporadic questions and made observations.
"So maybe he'll come back today.  Maybe tomorrow."
"Or maybe we should just get a different dog. What do you think?"
She did point several times across a busy street and said, "we should check over there."
One side of the street is the town we live in, the other side of the street is the neighboring town.
We continued on our way and I explained that we were not getting a different dog.

Eventually everyone returned home and Chris made dinner while the children made Lost Dog signs.  I contacted a few people in the neighborhood to see if they had seen him or knew of anyone who had. I posted on a town Facebook page.  No success. After dinner I called our town police department, but they had no reports of a found dog. After a moment, I called the police department of the neighboring town. They had a report of a dog that had been found who matched Jack's description.  The people who had found him brought him in and Chris and two of the kids went to pick him up. I did have a few thoughts that perhaps this was not the same dog, but they came home with Jack. Who was not perturbed by being out with another family for hours.  Nor had he been particularly impressed to be picked up by Chris and the kids. They were relieved to have him home.

Vivian's sign.

A rock in the garden Vivian drew for Jack.

Our paving stone that is now decorated for Jack.

Since then he has made every possible attempt to leave the house again.

Election Aftermath- Rally

This was my reaction to the election after crying all day on Wednesday on and off.  I organized a small peace rally in Somerville.  I hope to do more soon. 

Boston Globe Link- sadly the sole heckler got most of the press

Trying to Take a Photo

Trying to snap a halfway decent photo today at the zoo.  Oh well.  I also tried to convince Sam to use the bathroom before we left the house.
"Sam, pee here.  The bathroom is a lot nicer here."
"Why?"
"I don't know.  It's cleaner.  Then we can enjoy the zoo without thinking about going to the bathroom."
"But why is it cleaner?"
"Because it is.  Less people use it."
"And animals?"
"What?"
"The animals don't use the bathroom at our house."
"Um... right."

Grocery Store Trip

I never knew how exhausting having kids could be, just trying to get the simple things done takes twice as long and is never calm.  I see people with three or more kids and marvel at their ability to run things smoothly.

Today was rainy and by the afternoon, raining steadily.  After work, I got Vivian and then picked Sam up at school and needed to stop for a few groceries on the way home.  We get to the store and I really had to pee.  I didn't have time after the students left my classroom, without risking being late to get both the kids.  So we start with the bathroom, but first I had to get a cart because they no longer house them in the store.  I'm holding Vivian and finally locate a dry cart under the shelter and Sam insists on pulling it out.  This takes way longer then necessary.  We get the cart into the store and park it next to the bathrooms and a put a few things in it so it doesn't get taken.  I have to talk Sam out of leaving a note on it with our name (where does he get these things from?).  So we go to the bathroom.  Now I have to untuck my shirt, undo my belt, and pants with one hand and pee holding Vivian, since there is no where to put her.  For some reason Sam decides to crawl on the floor.  I can't yank him up because I'm trying to pee.  I convince him that it's disgusting.  He starts to get up as I am trying to rip a piece of toilet paper off the giant roll that is inconveniently not in a dispenser.  The roll immediately flies off of  the handicap railing and bounces off Sam who is half up from crawling on the floor.  He wails and yells that he was "getting off the floor and why did you throw toilet paper at me?"  Obviously someone chooses that moment to enter the bathroom.  Then we get to open the stall door to greet the person who now thinks I whip industrial size toilet paper rolls at my three year old.  We wash our hands, one at a time, since I am still holding Vivian, and Sam has crawled across the floor.

Now we get to grocery shop.  Sam wants to push the cart that Vivian is in (which was still there despite us not leaving our names on it).  So he pushes, but I have to steer.  People think this is adorable and have to stop and tell us several times, which reinforces in Sam's mind that he needs to push the cart.  It takes about three times as long as it should to get the few items we need, plus the obvious discussion we have to have every time Sam spots something that he thinks is delicious, punctuated by Vivian's shrieks.
"No.  We have mac n' cheese."
"No, we don't need pomegranate juice for $7.99." (for what appears to be about 12 oz)
"No, we are not getting cherries for $8.99 a pound (really??? How many cherries would I actually get for $9.00?"
"You're right, we haven't had those cookies in a very, very, very long time.  And we're still not going to get them."
"Oh yes.  I do see that very delicious looking chocolate cake.  Yes, for your birthday."
"We don't need two loaves of bread."
"Or the same exact bagels that you didn't eat last time I bought them."
"Or the same exact yogurt that you don't actually like, it just has good pictures on the package."
"We have popcorn at home."
"You had veggie chips for snack, we are not buying more."
"Yes, we can get apples."

We pick up samples of bread slices.  Vivian tosses her bread on the floor then shrieks for it.  I get her another one.  Then Sam is doing the pee-pee dance and we are in the produce section, which is on the exact opposite side of the store from the bathroom.  The child who I finally toilet trained.  He checks his leg to make sure he hasn't peed.  We rush back to the bathroom area and have the same conversation about not labeling our cart with our names because it was there last time, whip Viv out of the cart, and run back into the bathroom.  Now I am tugging his pants down with one hand, but we make it on time.  Vivian drops her bread and starts to cry.  And somehow we're back where we started, in the bathroom with a crying kid.  Sam finishes, picks up Vivian's bread and tries to throw it away in the sanitary bin depository.  "No!" I yell.
"Why not?"
"Just no- the trash by the sink."
"But..."

We return to the produce section, with the cart that was there again with no names on it.  It now appears that we have  been in the store (that is thankfully a very small grocery store), for forty-five minutes.  We have about 8 things in the cart.  We get Vivian another bread sample and this time I rip it in half and put half in my pocket for when she drops it again.
"Mom."
"Yes?"
"I think Vivian pooped."
I close my eyes and think about where the diaper bag is and about going back to the bathroom.  I sniff around suspiciously.  I decide it's the brussel sprouts and we leave it at that.

We make it to the door of the store, I have remembered none of my reusable bags (there are about ten in car but virtually impossible to get them), so everything is in paper bags, and it is pouring out. Twenty pound Vivian is no longer in the cart having reached her maximum and she is not a quiet kid when she's mad, so I'm holding her, steering the cart that I have negotiated with Sam for, with one hand.  I don't even know who or what to put in the car first.  Finally we run across the parking lot and I open the hatchback and park the cart and Sam under it, while I load a screaming Vivian into the car.  Luckily we are parked over a drain, so Sam is mesmerized by the flowing water and doesn't move.

By the time we get home and I unload the soggy bags (none ripped thank goodness), it is quarter to five.  I again get to choose who and what to bring in the house first, second, and third, because this trip involves all of our lunch stuff from the day, the two outfits Vivian has been through, my work stuff, purse, and Sam's school stuff.  This gives me a fifteen minute window to put away the groceries and get dinner together before Vivian needs to be picked up or she will scream bloody murder.  During which time, obviously, the children have to play directly under my feet.  Because it's really lucky that we switched bedrooms around again this weekend so that their playroom can be off the kitchen within eyesight.

How did my mother have three children?  And I'll obviously find that half piece of sample bread in my pocket months from now...

Healing

We're all trying to move on from the events last week and start to heal.  Things are less surreal now, though just as heartbreaking.  I keep thinking about how lucky I am to not be directly effected by the events and to not have to explain to my kids what happened.  We live a few blocks away from the funeral home that is holding the wake for one of the victims, and yesterday the area was lined with police cars and helicopters to protect the family and friends from potential (promised) protests from the Westboro Baptist Church.  I can still get away with not being truthful when Sam asks about all the activity.  Today, I drove past the funeral home, as they were preparing to leave for the church, with Vivian in the car, my heart heavy, her sleeping obliviously.

Funeral article link

Friday was horrible and tense as waves of news kept us glued to the TVs, poor journalism, and misinformation; as the police searched for the suspect after an MIT police officer was killed, another wounded and a chase ensued through Cambridge and Watertown.  Communities were on lockdown, with Davis Square and other urban areas being ghost towns, while next door Medford had minimal traffic.  I went to a grocery store in Chelsea which was open, and in the same plaza, TJ Maxx and RadioShack were closed.  My mother couldn't get to New York with Amtrak, the T, and buses being down.  Of course there are connections everywhere, in this small city, and Tess knew the officer who was killed.

My coworkers had to endure their homes being searched by SWAT team members and to take cover during the gunfights and manhunt in Watertown.  Everyone returned to school today with counseling services on hand, to support each other and the students through the hopeful return to routine and normalcy.  On Friday, I watched on the news as neighborhoods I am familiar with, were combed for explosives, the suspect, and lined with law enforcement in military vehicles.  Social media actually became a source of comfort and reassurance as friends updated their statuses and let us know they were okay, some providing much needed humor (not to make light of the situation).


"Omg there's a swat team in my house right now!!!!!"

(and my message to her & response:  
me: "I hope there were some hot guys"
her:  "Thanks for the good laugh. They were literally hot and sweating poor guys. Most were older, but a couple were good looking ")

"We are becoming way too familiar with our living room rug today!"

"Huffingtonpost interview shows our Swifer was in the shot!"

"The swat guys were super cool and friendly. They declined a group photo. One of them said, "its still pretty dangerous" to me. You know I had to try."

There were some scary images and statuses also, but I will refrain from sharing those.A few that were taken in the thick of things by friends in the neighborhood:




 And that have been circulating:   



A police officer delivers milk to family with young children who were on lockdown in Watertown.



The Make Way for Ducklings Statues in Boston.



And of course, moments like this, David Ortiz speaking at Fenway Park on April 20.

Big Papi at Fenway link


Now the suspect is in the same hospital as those who were injured in the initial bombing.  The same hospital that Vivian was born in less than two months ago.

Chris and I went down to Newbury Street yesterday, without the kids, to walk around the galleries and get out of the house.  Newbury runs parallel to Bolyston, which is still an active crime scene.  People were everywhere and the cherry blossoms and Magnolia trees were in bloom.  On the corner of Newbury Street, people sat eating lunch outside at Stephanie's.  Next to them where Newbury and Exeter St meet, metal barriers blocked the crime scene and memorials lay.  Bolyston is still littered with blown out windows and the same mangled barriers that first responders pulled aside and leapt over.  The Bolyston blocks and intersecting streets are silent and deserted, other than the crowds paying their respects and officers guarding the area, and the forensic teams dressed in all white, combing through the area.  It's eery and heartbreaking.  Large bomb squad vehicles are parked throughout and news crews are still filming.  The next block is lively and crowded and signs of spring are everywhere.  H & M has the Newbury St entrance open and the adjoining entrance onto Clarendon is locked with the investigation in full force outside.

Now we move on, as the suspect at Beth Israel hospital is beginning to communicate and victims are laid to rest.  People are coming together to mourn and hold vigils and runs, and find some peace.  The great political repercussions have yet to be seen with immigration and Miranda rights hitting the forefront of the discussions.
We have to cherish what we have, the communities we live in, and the way tragedies bring us together, and hope not to have to explain this type of thing to our children, ever.

This is a little overdone, but a  recap of both the events, Boston community, and spirit.
Below is a link to the Opening ceremony at Fenway Park on April 20.

Fenway 4/20 Opening Ceremony

Little People and Big Places

At the end of my school vacation week, we went to Southampton, NY to see Chris's uncle and his partner and other family friends.  The trip is about 5 hours, the drive broken up by a ferry ride from New London, Connecticut across Long Island Sound.  It's a lot of car time, but Sam loves the ferry ride (they build submarines in New London, so there is lots of equipment visible for that enterprise), and the home in Southampton is full of places to explore and run around in.  The garden never ends and the neighbor has a chicken "coop" the size of our apartment.  There were two little girls there also this trip, who Sam adores.  He wore himself out playing with them.  They spent a good half hour running around trailing Bali banner that were trying to be hung for a party.



And on the way home, we got a push from a tugboat!

Love the Sign