Giardia

I was looking forward to writing a happy blog entry on Cubby's first birthday but as you can see by my long absence, things did not go as planned.

Cubby's birthday WAS a lot of fun. We went to church and then to the Sea Aquarium. The boys loved the dolphins and whales. Every time one would make a jump Cubby would raise his arms like the trainers and yell "Jump!" or "dolphin!" He chattered happily all afternoon while we looked at manatees and fish. When we pulled out of the parking lot and drove back over the bay to our home, he drifted off into a happy sleep. We ate great Italian food that night and invited the family over to sing Happy Birthday. Cubby and the Bear downed a chocolate cupcake each!

I tucked them into bed, happy, safe and warm.

At 12:30 that night, they woke up with severe vomiting and diarrhea which occurred every half hour. Cubby had never thrown up before, not even once, so the sight of him squirming in pain on my bed broke my heart. The Bear cried almost the entire night while J and I raced around cleaning beds, hosing sheets and taking trips with the boys to the bathroom. The next morning Cubby began to dehydrate quickly, I took him to the hospital and we were admitted for yet another long and sleepless night. The Bear stayed at home, barely eating or drinking. This has continued all week. The boys are miserable with sickness. J and I are overwhelmed with sleep deprivation.

At first we assumed the boys had food poisoning (as did the hospital) but we later found out that the boys contracted a bug. Literally. Those happy splashing dolphins at the aquarium splashed a nice case of Giardia right into my sweet angels' mouths. Now we are inundated with antibiotics and nausea medications which will help kill the bug. Their immune systems are extremely low at the moment and for the next month they will be susceptible to catching nearly everything.

Little Bastard

I hate seeing my boys suffer. We've had very few smiles and giggles this week. No macaroni and cheese dishes, no broccoli forests, no apples with teeny tiny bites taken off the sides, no slippery bathroom tile from rigorous bubble bath fights, no crayons marks on the cabinets, no watering cans abandoned in the garden.

If I could shrink myself down to miniature size I could personally combat those bugs. I would rip off their tentacles and mutilate their appendages with my bare hands. I'll have to content myself with just melting their bodies with a fury of antibiotic.

Giardia sucks.

Sneaky Little Secrets

Cubby is walking. I know this only because I have caught him twice unawares. Whenever I am in the room he zips around on all fours, wreaking absolute havoc on everything. The moment I leave, he pulls himself to a stand and walks. Not the wobbly, unsure steps of a beginner, he walks like a pro. A few nights ago I turned from the kitchen just in time to see him walk a good five feet across the room, he looked up, met my eyes and plopped onto his tush with a cheeky smile and a happy gurgle. "What are you doing?" I shouted with surprise. He crawled away. Hmph.

This has been the pattern of the last few days. Why he refuses to walk when Mommy is in the room with the camera ready? I do not know. For some reason, he wishes to keep his new talent a secret. Meanwhile he is pushing every button and boundary in sight. We reprimand him with a firm "NO", to which he responds, with mischief twinkling in his blue eyes, "no no no no no" shaking his head and smiling with sneaky flirtation. This boy is a charmer, I can see a mile away that he has my father's personality and my temper. God help me.

Cubby refuses to be contained these days. No more pack and play, no more silent play in the crib, no more walker. He will only sit in his high chair if snacks are provided. He wants to be free, and not just to move! This morning just before nap time, I found him sitting on the floor without his diaper, howling with despair as he tried to wrench himself free of his shirt. Apparently, Cubby's idea of a good time now is running around naked, behind my back, preferably with a cookie in each hand.

Writing the latter reminds me to inform you that Cubby is a cookie monster. He loves loves loves cookies. I've been buying flax seed, bulgar wheat, whole wheat, multi grain, oatmeal, etc varieties and he can not get enough! He needs a cookie in each hand and he needs them before Bear gets any. If I dare give the Bear a cookie before Cubby he squeaks a loud protest and scowls at me from his high chair before unleashing a string of words pitched in an unhappy tone. He repeats almost everything he hears the Bear say, but only understands 10 or 12 of the words he repeats. For example, when he hurls a tirade of words at me to proclaim his displeasure over being fed second, he starts off with "mama" and ends with something that sounds like, "diaper doggie agua no no monster lion cookie cookie." Eh? He really means, "Mother, how dare you wound me with this demeaning injustice, fetch me a cookie immediately!"

Luckily the Bear is easy going and does not seem to mind being second on the feeding schedule. Cubby is in for a big surprise when Mommy has another baby, that is all I can say!

This afternoon I am taking the boys down into the garden to help me water the new seedlings I transplanted last night. Their Aunt H gave them watering cans for Christmas and I am eager to teach them how to grow and care for plants. Cubby has an iguana watering can and the Bear has a little bumble bee. As of now we have only watered the potted pansies by the door, but today we will venture out into the garden. The lavender roses are in full bloom and a family of blue butterflies has moved into the garden. I've never seen blue butterflies in South Florida before and can only surmise that some wealthy family in Coral Gables purchased them for a science project and then released them into the backyard. I don't know how long they will survive once the heat returns, for now they seem quite relieved to have found my garden. I am happy to enjoy them and show the boys the "farter-fees," as the Bear once called them, before moving onto the more sophisticated, "butt-fly."

The Roses and The Goat

J finished our fence yesterday. The last picket painted, both gates hung with clasps locked in place. I still can't believe this garden is my own. A few days ago I planted the last rose bush and sat on our porch steps for a few minutes, soaking it all in. The gemini roses have come in strong, all peaches, creams and yellows are flourishing from the dark green gloss of stem and leaf. Just outside the north gate I planted a special variety of tea rose called "Moon Dance," its a beautiful white rose that smells of raspberries. The name, smell and color remind me of something Marilla Cuthbert would have grown prim and tidy in the Green Gables grove and a young Ann Shirley would have swooned over. Guarding the east gate are two large English Rose bushes, one is a very delicate yellow and the other an extremely bold pink. They look like two chaperones, watching over the beds of blue sage, salvia, ruellia, thyrallis and plumbago. At their feet, princess flowers and sweet pea vines cling to the pickets. I am slowly training the royal blue flowers of the sweat pea vine to blossom out towards the street. The durantas have grown by leaps and bounds this past December and are now blossoming once more with their small ribbons of deep purple flowers spilling out of nearly every branch. A definite "crowning glory" of this garden are the Lavender Floribunda roses. They smell like oranges and pink grapefruit, their scent rivals the confederate jasmines that live under the front bay window. The deep lavender hue of those petals are lovely, hopefully I can train these roses into a plump round shrub.

For a few more weeks I can enjoy the pansies and lavender. In another month or two the hydrangea bush will be in full bloom! My mother gave it to me for Easter last year and somehow the little plant not only lives still, but thrives! We generally don't have hydrangea below Orlando and even at that, its usually the oakleaf variety. This is a French Hydrangea, I've already tested the soil and doctored it so that we will have blue blossoms in March. My seedling have sprouted and are craning their heads towards the sun already. Lupine, Snapdragon, Poppies, Daisies, Forget-Me-Nots and Larkspur all gangly and awkward in the sunshine while the fully matured roses peer over at them, it feels a bit like a middle school dance in the northwest corner of the garden. The bursts of color from every plant are only growing more radiant with each passing week. Coupled with the fact that our tabebuia tree will be in full flowering splendor, I think Spring in my garden will look like a poem.

I spend every spare moment of my day in the garden. The Bear loves looking at the flowers and watching the bees and butterflies buzz and flutter. I love sitting out on the porch as twilight slips out from under our corner of the world. The scent of jasmine, rose and lavender soothes me and I feel extremely grateful for my wonderful, creative and mighty God. I feel safe inside this little fence, tending to plants with my hands and pouring my love and energy into something beautiful. 5 years ago, I lived in a hellish situation of fear and confusion, it was a truly painful time in my life and certain aspects of my personality died. Watching the garden at night, I feel a balm heavy on my heart and a slow growing resurrection of forgotten joys and pleasures.

Those are the wonderful things about the garden, but there are other things....

There is a slight danger involved with my garden that I might as well confess now. My nature is in possession of an eccentric streak that I struggle to keep dormant, but more often than not manifests itself in subtle ways at present but I know that when I grow old that eccentric streak will come alive and take over my personality (Lord help my husband). When I was younger, I wanted to live somewhere remote, completely alone, save for my books which I would be at leisure to read nonstop all day and of course, Atticus.

Atticus would be my old goat. I wanted to live alone, read books and adopt a goat. This goat would keep me company, I would walk him on a leash around the neighborhood, talk to him and try my best to be that crazy lady all the children are slightly afraid of but who always comes to the rescue at key moments of adventure. Insane, right? Yes. I really wanted that. Well, now that Prince Charming and my blue eyed angels have taken up residence in my heart, Atticus and the Crazy Lady Parade have dissipated into nothingness. However, the streak that created them in the first place still exists, and I am wondering if the goat will be replaced by the more domestic and palpable, Rose Garden. The Rose Garden will be my passion, even in the moment IS my passion. I'm sure I won't be scary without a menacing goat by my side, I will just be the very short, very round,very old woman, never without pruning scissors and always in the garden. But I still want to be a little bit crazy. I suppose I could give each plant a name according to their personality, would that qualify me for neighborhood loon? I hope so. J detests goats and my eccentric side must flourish somehow!

This first garden of mine is a definite step in the direction of elderly gardening loon. :)

The Decade of Little Boys

On December 31st, 1999, I celebrated the new millennium at my soon-t0-be Uncle Joe's house in the Keys. I stood on the second story veranda and watched our future Uncle and his nephew engage in a pyro-spectacular bonanza of enormous fireworks (of the state park variety) and thought about the decade to come. I thought about the boy I was madly in love with at the time, I thought about getting to drive a car and going to college, becoming an archeologist and traveling to Egypt. I remember specifically wondering what my life would be like in 2010, I was convinced I would be living in either Tel Aviv or Cairo, a lone reed, immersed in my career and missing home dreadfully.

Last night I rang in the new decade holding my first born son in my arms while my husband stood with our youngest in his arms. We kissed each other and wondered in amazement over how differently our decade turned out. How very glad I am to not be the author of my own story, a 2010 New Year alone in Cairo would have paled in comparison to my life this morning. We live a very simple and humble life, but we live it together and for each other and as servants of our Lord. I want for nothing. This next decade will be the decade of my sons' early childhood. It will be a decade of birthday parties, camping, pirate ships and treasure hunts, band-aids, jungle safaris and space explorations, pocket knives, sling shots, legos, Emergency room bills, grass stains, coonskin caps, lizards, juice boxes and mud. The Decade of Little Boys is upon me. Thankfully, gardens, tea and Jane Austen will also be in the mix whenever I have a moment to myself. I am overwhelmed with gratitude today. What a beautiful way to start a new decade. The dreams of my childhood are now silent and gone but the dreams of my own children's childhoods have come true and I now hold them in my hands. I love my sons. I hope I have three more boys in these next 10 years, I could never have too many boys...all though I'm sure J would say 4 boys are plenty.

I am not one for New Year's resolutions. I never make them and therefore never break them. This year is no different than the last in that respect. I only want to do what I do each day: serve God, love my husband and teach my children (and kiss them as much as possible!) Last year we welcomed a son and lost an unborn child, we bought our first home and built a garden, we found a new church and I started BSF. This coming year is one of J's final semesters before writing his PhD thesis, I am savoring each day of our life in the little yellow bungalow and am eagerly watching my children grow and learn in this new year of 2010.

Happy New Year to you dearest friends and family. May God open your eyes to see His work in your life each and every day. :)