The Countdown Begins

A recent bout of hot, humid weather here in Wisconsin has given a little preview of what summer will have in store.  If we weren't already counting down the days until the end of the school year, we certainly are now.  I'm not sure who is more anxious for that final day of school - the boys or the husband.  If I had to place a wager, I would put my money on the husband.

Ben has two weeks of teaching left, some exam review, and then final exams.  They aren't the final exams of my high school days with test time limited to one hour.  At any rate his last day is June 11th and he flies out to Europe on the 14th.  Since his great European vacation to France and Germany includes chaperoning a group of high schoolers, he won't be officially free until his return on the 23rd.  It's hard to count a trip to Europe as a hardship though.

John has to stick it out the longest with his last day being June 14th.  Why the students need to report on a Monday is beyond me.  Perhaps it is just one more example of how messed up the  Milwaukee Public School system can be.  I'm sure he'll be anxious for friends and activities about three days after school ends.  Anyone care to guess how many times I will hear, "I'm bored" this summer?

Sam's last day of preschool is tomorrow.  He has really enjoyed his time at preschool and I am sure he will miss having playmates his age.  He'll head off to Milwaukee German  Immersion next year starting 4K as a five-year-old.  He is ready for friends, school and all the learning; I am ready to let him go.

That leaves Andrew who is blissfully unaware that his two-year-old birthday is rapidly approaching.  He'll love having his brothers around to bother.  Having discovered a love for the sprinkler and the sand box, he is certain to join the others in many hours of backyard play.  For him, everyday is a Saturday.  Ah, to be young and free again....

While the air conditioners hum in the background, I leave you with a preview of one of our favorite summer activities -

To nap, perchance to dream

Why is it as an adult you crave time to relax, unwind, perhaps take a nap and as a child you fight sleep as if a nap will kill you?  If only I could reason with the boys and explain this principle to them.  Sleep while you can because you'll probably spend the rest of your life trying to catch up.

Nap time around here can get pretty interesting.  Sam no longer naps but there are days when I try to get him to lie down for a while.  Today was one of those days.  Let me back track a little.

We were at a pizza party hosted by one of his classmates.  Having decided the pizza was inedible because it "looked funny" (it was Papa Murphy's not his usual Pizza Hut) he proceeded to eat two slices of watermelon, a couple of cookies, and a bottle of water and called it lunch.  After two hours of play with friends both him and the babes were showing signs of a crash.  I loaded up the van and headed back to the house.

Wyatt fell asleep on the ride home and after a short rest is currently playing with the shades in our bedroom while talking to his puppies.  Andrew threw a fifteen minute temper tantrum calling out for Daddy, Nonnie and Papa in turn and shouting "No, Momma" at the top of his lungs.  After letting the tantrum run some of its course, I was able to wrestle him to bed.  After taking two sucks on the milk cup he fell fast asleep.

And then there is Sam.  I gave him his usual hot dog and banana with a cup of milk for lunch.  He watched one show on Nick Jr. while eating his lunch and then promptly asked me for a treat.  I declined to give him a treat after watching him consume cookies and brownies at the party and he immediately began a tantrum that easily exceeded Andrew's in volume and strength.  After I suggested he go take a rest the fur began to fly followed by several, "Do you want to make me angrierer?!?!?" (Sam's words, not mine.)  So in response I swept him off his feet and tossed him into his bed (no small feat since the little guy is pushing 45 lbs).  After three more returns to bed, he got the message and stayed put.  I said, "I love you."  He shouted, "I love you too!" with tears of frustration running down his red, rosy cheeks.  In the time it took me to write this post,  Sam has fallen asleep.

One of these I hope to achieve the ultimate trifecta of napping with all three boys taking concurrent naps just one afternoon.  Alas, today is not to be the day.  I can still hear Wyatt playing with the shades....

An explanation....

I've been asked by a few readers to post a little more frequently throughout the week.  While much of life at home with the boys is amusing and exasperating anecdotes, life is a bit more complicated.  As those close to me know, I have battled with depression for years.  Lately, I've been having a harder time seeing the cute and funny things in life, rather, I've been feeling a bit low.  Hence, I haven't been in the mood to write about life with the boys.  By now I know when I need to seek help and when to let it ride with the knowledge that the funk will soon lift.  This is one of those times that I can clearly see the light at the end of the tunnel and the funk is beginning to dissipate.

While the funk is clearing, I am not yet back to my "normal" self.  However, I am happy to answer some questions that will most assuredly pop into your heads after reading the above paragraph.

When did my first bout with depression occur?  Looking back probably high school, junior year to be more specific.

What brought it on?  At the time it was probably situational, my grandpa died, my relationship with my parents was your typical teenage give and take, and my boyfriend of over a year broke up with me.  I have a sneaking suspicion that for me there is also a genetic component.  This will be something I deal with for life.

When did I first seek professional help?  The year after I graduated from college I finally sought professional help.  I have seen numerous counselors, some good, some bad.  I am currently checking in with a psychiatrist about every six to twelve months.

Do you take medication?  Yes, I happily take my little blue pills (the generic Prozac) every morning.  I have been on and off anti-depressants since the year after college.  My longest stretch off was the months following my exit from medical school through having Sam.  I went back on about a year after having Sam and was on during my pregnancy with Andrew.  Right now, Prozac works best for me; I will probably be on it or another anti-depressant for life.

Does the Prozac dull your emotions?  Make you feel numb?  Actually it's quite the opposite.  The medication allows me to maintain a more even baseline.  I still have my ups and downs.  My downs just no longer govern my life.

So that's my depression in a nutshell; the Cliff-notes version, if you will.   I want to thank my greatest supporters for helping me weather my periodic storms (like leaving mochas on my porch!) and especially Ben who has stuck with me through it all.  I think it helps to talk about it.  Like a diabetic who needs insulin, I need my fluoxetine to help me through the day.  By acknowledging my depression, I take away some of its power -- and that makes a difference.  Who knew writing a blog would be the cheapest therapy out there....oh wait, my cousin did!

Things I never thought I would say.

The boys are crazy.  Perhaps it's the warmer weather bringing us glimpses of the summer ahead; perhaps they are sneaking pure sugar into their meals; perhaps they are just your typical boys but they are crazy.  I mean bouncing-off-the-walls, screaming-like-eagles (or I guess I should say dragons),  making-a-joke-of-everything, crazy.  This makes for times when I find myself saying to my own children things that when my parents said them to me, I swore I never would repeat to my own children.  Here's a short list of sayings that we all hated to hear in our youth and are destined to repeat to our own kids:

• "Because I said so."
• "Sit still for once."
• "Are you listening?"
• "Do you understand what I am trying to say."
• "No and I mean it."

And then there is the list that I never imagined I would say.  Unfortunately this list grows longer with each passing day...

• "Get your hands out of your pants."
• "Don't wipe your nose on me."
• "Don't step on your brother's {insert assorted body part here}."
• "Get your foot out of your bowl."
• "Take the {book, toy, piece of garbage} out of your mouth."
• "Please don't suck on my hair."

All is well in the Anderson Asylum for the evening as the three are safely tucked into bed.  The craziness is taking a brief rest, only to refuel for the morning.  Another day without needing a padded room - not for the kids, but for us parents who are trying our best to keep the craziness a bit controlled without investing in child-sized straight jackets.

The Big Catch

This afternoon the boys were apparently struggling to find activities to keep them occupied.  After literally bouncing off the walls, tackling one another, and other minor violations of household rules, Sam was sent upstairs to play in his room.

He came downstairs to play Chutes and Ladder with John and Ben and this conversation ensued:
Me:  "Is that a new shirt?"
Sam: "Yes."
Me: "Why did you change shirts?"
Sam: "Because I got my other one wet."
Me: "How did you get your shirt wet?"
Sam: "I was playing with the aquarium."
***At this point I could no longer stifle my laughter.  I tried but I just couldn't.  Ben sent John out of the room and maintained his composure enough to continue with the conversation.***
Ben: "What were you doing in the aquarium?"
Sam:  "I was trying to catch the fish.  I caught one but I let it go."

After a quick lecture on reasons not to play in the aquarium and a firm warning never to touch the fish or even the glass on the aquarium, Sam was sent upstairs to think for a bit.  Upon further inspection, Sam's hands had been in the aquarium long enough to be wrinkled.  Not only had he caught one of the angel fish, he caught two, and moved an aquarium rock onto of the third.  After replacing the plants and rescuing the third fish from beneath a rock, it appears one of the fish may not make it.

Perhaps this is all part of Sam's master plan to get hermit crabs once the fish are gone.

Almost two...hear me roar

Just in case you were wondering, the third child of my trio of boys is about to turn two.  Andrew is normally quite the mild-mannered fellow who goes well with the flow and isn't rattled by much.  All of this came to a crashing halt on Monday when my charming little boy turned into a screaming, kicking little monster.  This earned him a quick trip to his bedroom where he continued to rant for several minutes.  After a few minutes of isolation, I opened his door to take this picture:

Andrew in all his misery with his precious puppy and hippo in his arms.  I have no idea what brought this tantrum on and as quickly as everything started, it ended.  After five minutes of ranting in his room, two minutes of me struggling to put socks and shoes on his feet, and a quick wipe of the nose, I took this picture.

Happy-go-lucky Andrew safely aboard his wagon.  This summer could be an interesting ride with yet another Anderson male experiencing the ups and downs of being two.

Out of the Mouth of Babes

The boys provide us with entertainment.  The best thing is that the entertainment is free; the worse is that it can be never-ending and mind-numbing.  Some of the best laughs around our house comes from things the boys say.

Sunday, Ben cooked us a wonderful breakfast of buttermilk waffles, bacon and sausage.  The boys and I were dining together at the table (always an adventure) as Ben finished off cooking his breakfast.  In the interest of full disclosure I contributed to the adventure by letting a rather large, unexpected belch.  After excusing myself and apologizing profusely, John offers these words of comfort, "Don't be sorry, that's lovely!"  At least I'll always be lovely in an almost seven-year-old's mind.

Today, while sweeping and mopping the floors, Sam and I had an interesting yet odd conversation about bad people.  (As much as you can have a conversation with Sam right now.  Really it was like a continual banter with very little to no input from me.)  According to Sam, bad people don't care about their world so they don't clean their houses.  This was followed by lots of questions regarding why bad people are bad and if babies can be bad.  Apparently Sam believes in the old adage that cleanliness is close to Godliness.  Now, if only he would put this to work in his own room.