Chronically Sleep Deprived

Trea had her pre-kindergarten check up today (and the pediatrician, who has seen Trea off and on since she was two weeks old, was as aghast as I was). She got FIVE shots, and didn’t shed a single tear. She was rewarded with coupons to a local fast-food place to get a hamburger and an ice-cream cone. Since John was planning to work late, we went out. Now the problem, every time we go to a fastfood establishment with a play area of any kind, is leaving. They are wonderful kids while we’re there; they play well with others, eat their food, and generally behave themselves. Come time to leave though, and it’s almost always a fight. So we talked, thoroughly, about my expectations. That when it was time to go there would be nothing less than complete cooperation. When the time came, Trea was fabulous and Adia resistant. Still, she didn’t melt down, so this was an improvement. We got in the car and the litany of complaints began. “I’m tired.” “I’m thirsty.”“I really wanted to play some more.”

My brother-in-law died today. He was 34, and he leaves behind a wife and four kids between the ages of 17 and 6. It wasn't expected. He had a sudden, massive infection in January. They replaced the mechanical heart valve he'd had for years; he suffered several strokes. The prognosis changed hour by hour: he might not live, if he lived he'd be in a nursing home, he'd be able to come home but need round-the-clock care. . . . he went through intensive rehab, made incredible progress, and came home March 30. He was great, he was fine; I made him cream-cheese frosted brownies last week - the one thing I knew he liked - and he told me he couldn't wait to get going with more therapy, he was raring to go. Yesterday he had a routine exam, they did an echo this morning and discovered the replacement valve wasn't working. He made it to the hospital, but not the OR. They don't know what happened, but it was fast. I can't believe he's gone. He was THREE YEARS old

Stole this from Shoeless Joel (only I am not as cool as he is, and couldn't figure out how to embed it.) Parts of it give me Mousetrap flashbacks, and the rest reminds me of a Baby Einstein video for adults. Cool though. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qybUFnY7Y8w

A co-worker lost her three-year-old grandson early Wednesday morning. Brain cancer. They'd known for a long time that it was terminal, and Tuesday night she told us he was dying. We got her a card, of course, and many of the students and staff made cash donations to help out the family, and I think the school sent flowers. The funeral was today. I didn't go. I didn't go because John was working, and the idea of packing up three kids to attend a funeral was daunting. The idea of sitting through the funeral with three kids wasn't so tempting either. And I didn't think Trea would handle it well - or rather, I didn't want to have to explain to Trea (or Adia) why these things happen. Mostly because I don't know. And the real reason I didn't go was because I could. not. stand. the idea of seeing a three-year-old laid out in a casket, and then coming home to take care of my kids who are 5, 3, and 4 months. I didn't go because I am a wuss.

We dyed eggs today. As I was getting the dye ready, I noticed the box listed nine colors: red, orange, yellow, blue, purple, pink, spring green, teal, and denim. Denim? Does "denim" say Easter to you? (It's pretty ugly, by the way; I ended up mixing it with the blue). The package also listed three options for making the dye. You could use vinegar for "ultra-vibrant" colors, lemon juice for traditional colors, or water for pastels. So, if I make the red with water for pastel, and the pink with lemon juice for traditional, will it be the same color? I'm almost tempted to go buy another package just to find out. Maybe when they're on clearance next week. . .