The Mister surprised me by starting his vacation two days early. Yay! We’ll be spending time with the boys until he goes back to work after the new year. Boo!

I’ll be in and out (mostly out) until then. Some of the things I hope to accomplish during this time include

• Dunking these freshly made marshmallows into some hot chocolate

• Picking out a new paint color for the living room. I’m thinking a pretty pear green to go with the fabric in these curtains, but I’m not sure. These curtains will go all along one wall (we have two picture windows and an 8 foot slider) and while I like them along the wall, I think they might be too busy with the large stone fireplace.  Kindly ignore the evidence of living with two little boys.  {Also, don’t worry design fans–we’ll be hanging the curtains up higher than they are now.}

• Learning how to do that thing in Photo Shop Elements where you can paint your walls virtually to get an idea of how a paint color will work.
• Update the blogroll
• Read lots and lots of books.

See you next year!

I couldn’t figure out what I didn’t like about my Christmas cards right away.  I was more concerned with Mikey, who all this week had been suffering, along with his brother, from what he likes to call, “Chaos in my underwear.”  When we left the house he was feeling grand, but by the time we entered Costco he looked like his stomach was bothering him again.  I chalked up my distaste for the cards to my insufferable perfectionism and quickly pushed my cart away from the photo counter and towards the the tummy safe, restaurant-sized, boxes of Minute Rice.

Between aisles 10 and 13 I checked the photo cards two more times.  There was something about them I couldn’t put my finger on.   I showed them to Mikey, who proclaimed them stupendous in between winces caused by intestinal distress.

I called the Mister from the car to let him know we would soon be able to claim the title of World’s Most Disconcerting Christmas Cards.  He showed an interest only a husband called while working to discuss photo cards could show.

I checked the cards again at a couple of stop lights, and at the second stop light, with the sun high overhead and magnefied by my windshield it hit me.  I knew exactly what was wrong with the photo cards.  In fact, under the harsh reality of daylight, I couldn’t believe it took me so long to figure it out.

Nicholas had green hair.

Sure, it wasn’t Kentucky grass green.  But it sure as heck wasn’t auburn, either.  Nico’s hair had the eery green cast of a blonde who has spent the summer in a chlorine filled pool.  Where there normally hints coppery red highlights was drab olive.  It was like his hair was in renal failure.  I tossed the cards on the passenger seat and sighed with disgust when the light turned, appropriately, green.

Back at home, I decided to make the best of it.  It took me a solid 15 minutes to figure out Nicholas had highlights the color of pea soup.  Surely, in that case, no one else would notice his jaundiced coif in the hustle and bustle of holiday greetings.  This isn’t my first time facing off with rogue Christmas cards.  I would make it work.

I sat down to write out my cards, but try as I might, I couldn’t think of a single greeting that didn’t reference green hair.

Happy Holidays!
Hope these cards don’t leave you green with envy!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Please join us this year in adopting a greener lifestyle.

May your Christmas be Merry and Bright!
{just not bright enough to notice our child’s green hair}

Ho! Ho! Ho!
Stop laughing.

I couldn’t do it.  All I could see was 50+ people across the U.S. choking on Christmas cookies after opening our cards.  That night, I went back to Costco and prepared myself for a fight.  Instead, the woman at the counter took one look at the cards and said, “Whoa.  They do have a greenish cast, don’t they?”

And 20 minutes later, I walked out of Costco with brand new Christmas photo cards.  In black and white.

As most of you know, we have been in and out of the hospital the past 3 weeks with our 21 month old Isabella. The week before Halloween, she fell off the second steps of our staircase at home and landed on her head. Wasn’t a bad fall, she briefly cried and got back up and went on to play with her brother and sisters. A couple weeks prior to that, she began to pull out hair from the top of her head and was eating it. We were told that just like some kids tend to bite their nails, Isabella just chose to eat her hair.

Well, as the story goes, Isabella began to throw up randomly a day later and we kept finding strands of hair. We believed it was from her eating her hair. We underwent several tests at our area teaching hospital to figure out why she was vomiting. It wasn’t until the final test that they figured it out. On the 24th of November, she had an MRI done and they discovered what they call a Sub-dural Hematoma (a bleed on the brain). They believed it was the cause of the fall. We spent most of Thanksgiving week in the ICU, only to be observed by several Neurosurgeons. Their only Pediatric Neurosurgeon was out of the country and didn’t return until December 1st. Up to then, the docs decided to just treat her symptoms and keep her comfortable because they didn’t know what the best route to take with her would be, either surgery or observation.

To complicate matters, along the MRI/CT’s, they found that Isabella was born with an Arachnoid Cyst (AC). This is a pocket of spinal fluid that is found in around 5% of people and may or may not ever cause trouble.

We met with the Ped Neurosurgeon on Monday, and they felt we should just watch it for the next month, treat symptoms, and give her a drug that would take some of the fluid out. We weren’t entirely satisfied with the plan and opted for a 2nd opinion. We went to see a well known Pediatric Neurosurgeon at UCLA on Tuesday and he confidently explained Isabella’s trouble.

Isabella does have a large arachnoid cyst that with the fall, or even prior to the fall, burst into the sub-dural layer, creating yet another pocket of fluid. Both of these pockets are placing a great amount of pressure on her brain, causing her vomiting, headaches and anger. On the CT scans you can see her brain is being pushed over to the left around 10 mm.  The Dr. has suggested a surgery to relieve that pressure. This coming Monday, Isabella will get a shunt implanted in her head. It will run from her brain down to drain into her abdomen. It will have a valve that can be controlled magnetically for the pressure and will not be visible from the outside. This shunt will slowly and physiologically drain her cyst and sub-dural pocket so that the brain can return to a comfortable space in her head and eliminate the symptoms she’s been having the past month.

As parents, Viola and I have had a lot on our plate the past few weeks and it has been pretty rough on us knowing what’s in store for Isabella. I can honestly say that nothing in life, so far, has been tougher. You realize nothing else in life really matters when you see your kids go through so much. Our other 3 angels have been doing well with all this. They all have been exchanging illnesses the past 3 weeks too. [Editor's note:  Sonny is downplaying what they have been through.  Each week for the last six weeks, at least 1 or 2 of the kids have had the stomach flu.  Viola, herself, has had it twice!]

Its such a joy to see them give Isabella a hug and kiss each time she leaves to or comes from the hospital. They know what’s going on, we think. We have to extend great thanks to my Mom the past 2 weeks, she has been here day and night helping us with the other 3. She has seen her share of vomiting the past couple of weeks. My wife Viola has been a rock and has been the strongest woman I’ve ever witnessed.

Its times like this when you can certainly appreciate all of our family and friends. That means the most to us… friends and family really stepping up to be there for us. We will never forget that. We have most of all been grateful for the prayers everyone has given us. I believe that’s what’s carrying us along and that’s what has given us the strength to get moving every morning. Thank you all for that. Please know that we love all of you and thank you for the support you’ve all shown us. Keep us in your thoughts and prayers and we will look forward to talking to all of you soon.

Love,

Sonny and Vi
Have an Incredible Day!

I had a terrible week and the boys were trying my patience, so when I called the Mister yesterday and asked if he would like to meet us somewhere for lunch, he quickly agreed. Secretly, I think he was worried I would dust the boys’ lunch with crushed Excedrin PMs if he didn’t take us out for burgers and fries. Wise move, the Mister.

Mikey is still obsessed with dinosaurs. We go to the library weekly and bring home 3-4 books and videos, which he spends devouring the rest of the week. The idea of taking him to the library was mine after one exceptionally expensive trip to the bookstore. Prior to dino-mania, trips to the bookstore were not so frequent that they hindered our ability to buy food and diapers. But, it turns out, they are many, many books on dinosaurs–and Mikey wants all of them. So, perhaps, the Mister and I weren’t thinking strategically when we decided to meet for lunch at our favorite outdoor ’50s diner, which happens to sit across the street from Borders.

On our way to lunch I promised Mikey lunch and a trip to the park with daddy, which had him very excited. But when the rods and cones in his eyes feasted on that large, national bookstore with a cavernous children’s section and an entire shelf devoted to dinosaurs, he could think of nothing else.

Jules: Mikey, eat your food before it gets cold.
Mikey: Oh, mom. I can’t eat another bite.
Jules: Another bite? You haven’t had your first bite, my friend.

And so it went. The Mister and I imploring Mikey to eat his food while he tried to convince us to take him to the bookstore.

Jules: Mikey, I’m serious. Eat your food.
Mikey: Mom, I can’t! My tummy is telling me something. It’s telling me I need to go to the bookstore.

What Mikey needs is to go into network marketing because he is a relentless salesman. When the Mister and I bought our first house, we made the mistake of allowing a water purifying salesman in the door. Three hours later, the Mister was forcibly pushing him out the door while the salesman yelled he could outsell the Mister any day of the week while he waved the checks of little old ladies as proof. Mikey is that guy. An hour into lunch, and he was still presenting to us the features and benefits of visiting the bookstore.

The Mister: Mikey, we said no. We’re going to the library this weekend. If you want a book, maybe you should ask Santa.
Mikey: Well, actually, the bookstore is a really good idea.
The Mister: Mikey, we said NO.
Mikey: Well, I think when we get there you will think it’s great.

Finally, the Mister had enough of Mikey’s sales presentation. He was going to put an end to this compaigning by hitting Mikey where it hurt: taking away the trip to the park. Mikey, like every little boy out there, loves the park. He loves climbing, running, jumping, swinging, and getting sand in his shoes. Me? I can leave the park. There are germs everywhere and I can’t function when there is but one grain of sand in my shoe. The Mister loves the park, so he was confident he had the upper hand when he told Mikey, “Okay, buddy. I guess we won’t go to the park. What’s more fun? The park, or the bookstore?”

To which Mikey responded, “Oh, Dad, books are better than everything.”

Oh, dear. What a week. I have been quiet for many reasons, not the least of which was the implosion of my internet service on Monday. We were able to get things partially squared away by Wednesday, but we are still unable to get the Mister’s PC communicate with my Mac/Airport Extreme router–or at least that’s what I think it’s called. This means if I have to use our backyard office if I want to do anything internet related. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the peace and quiet, but I can’t leave the kidlets inside unsupervised because they might eat the dogs.

Speaking of kidlets, Mikey has been sick, although not terribly so. We’ve been up a few times with him the last two night dues to fevers and runny noses, but nothing serious enough to prevent him from obsessing about dinosaurs. This morning, while I was changing him into some fresh pajamas, he perked up enough to point out the manufacturers had made a most embarrassing mistake: Tyrannosaurus Rex has two fingers, not three like depicted in red, iconic glory. Three fingers is clearly an Allosaurus, which predates T-Rex and is really something any pajama-maker worth their snuff would know.

And while we are on the subject of pajamas, I finally broke down and had a sleep study done. I thought I was a light sleeper, but I didn’t know the half of it; I have severe sleep apnea, and must now sleep with a cpap, also known as the world’s sexiest oxygen mask. I only exaggerating slightly when I say it looks like this.

I have yet to wake up feeling magically refreshed as promised, but I’ve had interrupted sleep due to the aforementioned paleontologist. I’ll reserve comment, for now, until I have at least two full nights sleep under my mask belt.

Lest you think my week centered around sick beds and sleep masks, I did venture out for a lovely lunch with Ms. Kara on Tuesday. She got to witness firsthand Nico’s latest trick: food compulsions. Familiar foods (nothing new, please!) must be eaten in groups. There is no mixing allowed. No crazy touching of the chips with the strawberries! While you’re at it, don’t you dare offer a chip when he is clearly having a chicken tender moment. Sacrilege! And did you know you eat chips with a dinner fork? Of course not. You are uncivilized. Sometimes I look at Nico and wonder how I gave birth to such a persnickety child. Then he’ll take the frosting off a cupcake and use it to moisturize his cheeks. Welcome home, son.

So this week our internet asked for a bail out, Mikey caught another cold, I learned I am awake more than I am asleep, and I ate lunch with my best friend and the next Howard Hughes. While not the best of times, it certainly hasn’t been the worst of times, either. We have a roof over our heads, no one has been laid off (knock. knock.), and we are are happy and healthy. And, besides, if it wasn’t for that little internet snafu, I might not have been able to do this:

It looks wonky, but they assured me at the yarn shop everything is as it should be, which, coincidentally, describes my week perfectly.

Those of you who have written Favorite Moments know they are often simple and ordinary. Consequently, these moments are often difficult to encapsulate with mere subjects and predicates–or even my beloved adverbs–because while the moment is mundane, its impact on the soul can be magical. For those moments, a string of words makes a paltry net.

Hope and change. Two words on a string that have transcended their once rudimentary place in the dictionary. They now define the future of a country that, until recently, remained shadowed by the stigma of racism. They symbolize the belief of the majority of the nation, and balm the incertitude of those who retain misgivings. They unite and divide and speak volumes, but to me they are so much more.

I find my hope in two pairs of eyes, one gray and one brown. And change, well, I see that frequently in a new word, a new skill, or a new passion. My favorite moment for me happened not at the national level as one would expect, but at the dining room table in a red-brick ranch in a drowsy, if not sleepy, town southern California.

I found my favorite moment in a bowl of apples.

And the dinosaur footprints on the table.

After lunch and acrobatics on the school swing set.

The milestones in my life shape me, but I am built on the moments that on their own amount to little. I am surrounded by hope every minute of my day, and I create my own change. God help me if I one day fail to see the hope in playdoh and apples. Should that day ever come {doubtful} I will go looking for it tirelessly, until I come up empty.

I never intended to be a stay at home mom. I went to one of the top ten colleges in the country. I had a master’s degree in health care administration and ten years real world experience before I entered law school. My career path, while circuitous, promised to be fulfilling and financially rewarding. I had big fish to fry, so I wasn’t going to waste my time baking fish sticks.

And then came Mikey. To say we had a rough beginning would be a heinous understatement, but we survived and bonded. The Mister and I were completely taken with our bald baby, and suddenly, after years of scoffing at “The Oprah Set,” we realized perhaps there was more to staying at home than we previously imagined. But, it was too late. I had to finish my final year of law school and study for the bar. We had my student loans to repay. I had to live up to the expectations of my family, my professors, and myself.

And I did. I finished my classes. I studied for the bar and passed on the first attempt. I secured a job, thanks to a close friend, as a part-time research attorney for a small family practice/criminal law firm. My mom took care of Mikey and I made very good money. The Mister was relieved to no longer shoulder the weight of everything while I studied. We moved to our dream home: a mid-century fixer upper. We started a complete kitchen remodel and picked out fancy finishes and appliances. Everything was perfect; I was miserable.

There are a series of events I remember clearly leading me to the decision to stay at home. The first had to do with my mom taking care of Mikey during the day. My mom is wonderful with children. My dad frequently says, unprompted, that she was born to mother. And it’s true. She is the consummate mother hen. No need goes unmet on her watch, and Mikey feasted on her tendency to dote. So much so, he often cried when it was time for me to take him home. This happens frequently with lots of babies and their daytime care providers, so I wasn’t too worried. Somewhat annoyed and hurt, but not terribly so.

Then, one day, my mom called and asked if I could come home early. Mikey was clearly sick and running a fever. Of course, I left the office immediately. When I arrived, there was Mikey snuggled in my mom’s arms. I walked up to greet him and take him home. I can’t describe the hysteria that ensued when I tried to take him from my mom. He cried until he could no longer breathe. He screamed and scratched at me and clung to my mom desperately. He could not be consoled while he was in my arms. In the end, she had to put him in the car seat for me. He was about a year old. My mom laughed it off to break the tension. I didn’t find it funny.

A month or two after that, when I got home from work, we went to order and pay for $20,000 worth of new kitchen cabinets. As we stood there waiting for someone to help us, the Mister held Mikey and occasionally tossed him in the air just to hear him giggle. I stood there holding the check book and smiled at them both. When it came time to pay for the cabinets, the Mister handed Mikey over to me. Again, he cried until he could no longer breathe. People started coming from different parts of the store to figure out what was wrong. The Mister asked the salesperson for the balance three times over Mikey’s screams, before he finally turned the computer screen around and looked for himself. In the end, I had to write the check and hand Mikey to the Mister. He was scratching my eyes and hurting me and twice I almost dropped him.

When we drove away, I stared out the passenger window and said in the dark to no one in particular, “I think those cabinets cost me more than $20,000.” The Mister knew better than to answer.

Although I was technically part-time, I worked constantly. When I was home, on my days off, I would often drop Mikey off with my mom so I could research and call clients. On the weekends, I did more of the same. I slept poorly, thinking about the latest stressful case and everything I had to do the next day. And always, I thought of Mikey and how we just didn’t seem to connect.

Not long after the kitchen cabinet debacle, the owner of the law firm where I worked told me I needed to work the weekend and draft an emergency motion for a divorce client who wanted to increase his visitation with his kids. The client was an insufferable commercial photographer who had left his wife for his much younger photographer’s assistant. The rub: he didn’t actually want to spend more time with his children. He intended to pick them up and drop them off at his mother’s house while he and the girlfriend partied in Las Vegas. He just knew it would piss off his ex-wife. He also knew if we had the visitation agreement amended permanently, he wouldn’t have to pay as much in child support. In his words: “I piss her off and pay less. It’s a win-win.”

When I walked into my office and saw that 7 inch file in front of me it hit me: I was sacrificing my time, spending time away from my family, alienating myself even more from my child, so that some jerk could get more time with kids he didn’t even want to see. I sat down, wrote the motion, and placed it on top of my boss’s desk. On top of it, I placed a letter of resignation.

I came home and told the Mister. We canceled the cabinets and reordered much cheaper ones online. We eliminated many of the fancy finishes we spent so much time researching. To this day, three years later, we still don’t have a back splash. Many of the items in our fixer-upper still need fixing. I decided to focus, instead, on repairing my relationship with Mikey.

This is a decision we made for us. This isn’t something every family can do, or something every family wants to do. I understand that, and admire the families out there who can make it work. We–I–couldn’t. I have never been good at balance, especially when it comes to work or school. The need to succeed and be at the top consumes me and, unfortunately, those around me suffer my tunnel vision. I realized if I was only capable of being good at one thing at a time, that one thing should be mothering.

It hasn’t been easy. Although the decision to stay at home was, ultimately, an easy one, the actual practice has been difficult. After being so focused on my career for so long, it took me a while to adapt to the change in my identity. I would be lying if I said I didn’t still struggle every now and then.

And, of course, we made a huge financial adjustment to our lifestyle. We had to scale back until we didn’t think we could possibly scale back more. And then we scaled back again. There are times, like this week, where I wonder if I made a mistake staying home. If, maybe, I should be working in a firm instead of eating popcorn with boys, beagles, and dinosaurs. Maybe if I was worried about my billable hours, I wouldn’t be worried that Mikey’s feet grew an entire shoe size since I bought his school shoes last month. I wouldn’t be looking in shock at the brand new jeans that barely graze his ankles when two months ago they dragged on the floor when he walked barefoot. I wouldn’t, I moaned to the Mister, be putting all new clothes and shoes on a credit card because we have to pay the car and home insurance premiums this month.

We should be paying down our credit card, not putting more on it.

The Mister waited until I was done orating and then said, “Every second you spend with our boys has far more value than any dollar we can put towards our credit card.”

And for once in my life I had nothing to say except, “Thank you.” Thank you for putting such a high value on what I do everyday. Thank you for always putting your family first, even when it meant turning down promotions and jobs I know you really wanted. Thank you for being such a wonderful father that people in restaurants will stop me after you walk by to tell me they have never seen a better dad to his children. Thank you for being nothing but supportive when I said, “I want to be a lawyer!” and then, “Or not!” Thank you for always trying to grope me when I unload the dishwasher, even though I’ve gained 30 pounds since we got married. Thank you for telling me every morning before you leave to go to work, “Thank you for doing what you do,” when it should be me thanking you.

Thank you for being my favorite everything, now and forever.