Monday, February 23, 2009

Dental drama

WCK had her first dentist appointment of her life this morning. I admit I was a little bit nervous about how it was going to go, but lately she has been getting through haircuts and doctor visits -- even flu shots -- like a champ, so I figured it would be OK in the end.

Oh, I am a naive mother.

We spent a few days preparing, being all happy and breezy about how great it would be at the dentist's office. We went to the dentist's web site and looked at photos of the office and talked about everything that would happen there. She'd even been playing "dentist" with her dinosaurs. One dinosaur would be the patient, one would be the dentist, and one would be the hygienist. I figured that since she knew and could pronounce the word "hygienist" that we'd be OK.

Again, naive.

WCK was perfectly fine ... until the hygienist suggested that she sit in the chair. What happened was so traumatic that I can't bear to recount it in words. Instead I will use photos.

WCK before being asked to sit in the chair:

WCK after being asked to sit in the chair:

Once the dust cleared, however, her teeth were sparkling clean and I was told she has healthy teeth and no cavities. They allowed us to make another appointment in six months, although I'm guessing they're going to stock up on holy water before they allow us into the building again. Also, I'm pretty sure the hygienist is re-thinking her career choice or, at the very least, having a nice stiff drink after work. I know I could use one.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Sugar, sugar

I swear that most of the time we try to make sure WCK eats a healthy diet. We really do. Today, though, was like the Perfect Storm, and she ended up eating her weight in sugar. This morning, Jay took her out to Caribou Coffee (or as WCK calls it, "Daddy Coffee". I agree that they might as well name it after him since his coffee habits are pretty much putting all of the employees' kids through college). She had a doughnut at Daddy Coffee. I guess I should have realized she had sweets at Daddy Coffee, but I didn't think about it much when I took her to a birthday party in the afternoon, and she had ice cream, cake, and a juice box.

I didn't really give the details of the party food to Jay, who then took her out to a Daddy-Daughter Dance at a local community center. There, she had more cupcakes and, Jay estimates, about four or five glasses of lemonade.

By 9 p.m. tonight, she thought she was a hummingbird.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Meet the Monk Monks

When I was a little, my very favorite stuffed animal in the whole world was a sock monkey named Monk Monk. I loved Monk Monk. He went everywhere with me and suffered years of abuse. I still have him. When I saw a brand new sock monkey at Target, I thought it would be a perfect Valentine's Day gift for WCK.

WCK was thrilled with her sock monkey and told me she was going to name him Monk Monk II. Actually, I think she meant, "I'm going to name him Monk Monk, too", but I need to add the II to avoid confusion, you know. I mean, what if I yell, "Monk Monk!" and they both come running? Chaos.

This morning, I was able to photograph both monkeys in their natural habitat. Here they are. What a pair:

I never realized how ragged Monk Monk I looked until I saw him next to young, robust Monk Monk II. As you can see, one of his eyes is missing. It also appears that the corner of his mouth was re-crocheted at some point, and Jay says he looks like Heath Ledger as The Joker.

I think Monk Monk II looks a little bit worried, maybe because he has to visit Monk Monk I in the Old Sock Monkeys' Home all the time and listen to him ramble on.

"Back in my day," says Monk Monk I, "sock monkeys were allowed to have choking-hazard button eyes. And everyone wore jazzy clown suits. We didn't run around naked, like you crazy kids do nowadays! That's the way it was, and we liked it!"

"Sure, Grandpa," says Monk Monk II, casually hiding some anti-anxiety meds in Monk Monk I's mashed bananas. "Just try to take a nap before The Price is Right comes on."

Fun times. I'm so glad we have a multi-generational family.

Monday, February 16, 2009


I don't like to talk about death in front of WCK. I've never explained what officially happened to the mothers of Nemo and Bambi. I even get a little uncomfortable talking about how all of the dinosaurs died out. Somehow, though, she picked up on what the word "die" means. A few months ago, out of the blue, she asked me if I had any grandmas. When I said no, she asked, "Did they die?" I was very surprised. Yes, I said, they did die. She asked why. I said it was because they got very old. She said, "It's OK, Mommy," and patted me on the arm. Then she didn't bring it up again, and everything was fine.

Today we were having what I thought was a fun conversation about how someday she'll be a grownup like me and I'll be a little old lady. Suddenly, her eyes grew wide.

"Are you going to DIE?" she asked, horrified.

Aw. Crap.

I explained that everyone dies, but I wasn't going to die for a long, long, long, long, long time. Not until I was a very old lady, and she was very old herself. I realize this is a bit of a stretch, considering the looming cancer situation, but ... you never know.

WCK could not be consoled. "YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!" she wailed. "I DON'T LIKE IT WHEN YOU DIE!"

Seriously. It was horrible. Horrible. I did not want to be having this conversation. What was I supposed to say? Finally, I just went for it.

"OK," I said. "I promise you I will never die."

Whew. I know this was probably the wrong thing to say, but I really did mean it sincerely. I will figure out a way to fix it. For example, I could just become a vampire. Everything will be fine.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

You catch more flies with Cheez-Its

Last week, I wrote about WCK throwing an Exorcist-like tantrum at the grocery store because I wouldn't buy her a bottle of vinegar. Today I had to go back to the store, and I was pretty scared of what was going to happen. For all I knew, Price Chopper had posted our photo in the break room, instructing employees to chase us away from the entrance with crosses and holy water.

Before we left, WCK and I had a long talk about how she "screamed at me" at the grocery store. WCK explained earnestly that she wanted "the square crackers", and that is why she screamed. Crackers? What about the vinegar? I mean, duh, I would have bought her some crackers. I did not bring up the vinegar at risk of causing flashbacks, but I told her that we could get crackers as one of her snacks this week if she behaved. She agreed to my terms, and she was a perfect angel. Then, we entered the vinegar aisle. I held my breath, and .... WCK pointed calmly to a Cheez-Its display right next to the vinegar.

"Those crackers," she said calmly.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. That .... makes a lot more sense.

Now we know. She did not throw the tantrum because she wanted vinegar. She threw the tantrum because her mother is dumb. At least I know now that my child is not insane.

And it has a picture of a train!

We tried to think of something exciting we could go out and do as a family on Valentine's Day, but we couldn't think of anything. We are not very exciting people. We decided to just hang around the house instead, and we ended up having a really nice time. We baked cookies, made homemade pizza, and exchanged Valentine's gifts.

After dinner, we watched Space Buddies. This is a direct-to-DVD Disney movie featuring talking dogs who go into outer space. The biggest star in the movie was the guy who played Dauber on Coach back in the '90s. And when I say "talking dogs", I don't mean talking cartoon dogs; I mean real dogs who move their lips in a very creepy way. The main reason the dogs moved their lips, it seemed, was to make jokes about what happens when one eats too many bean burritos. (And one of the dogs was always eating bean burritos). I don't think any fart jokes were left on the cutting-room floor. Naturally, WCK can't stop talking about Space Buddies. Jay bought her a copy of it, so I'm sure we'll be watching it again and again. I can't wait!

Anyway, one of the best parts of Valentine's Day was this awesome candy-filled heart I got from Jay. It almost makes up for the fact that I'll be living with Space Buddies for the rest of my life:

Friday, February 13, 2009

Quick thinking

Last night, I put WCK to bed. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps and then the sound of her closet door slamming. I went into her room, and, sure enough, she was sitting in the closet with the light on, playing joyfully with a few dozen plastic dinosaurs.

"Hi," I said. "Whatcha doing?"

WCK's eyes grew wide, and she thought for a second.

"Um," she said, "sleeping?"

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Party planning

First of all, I didn't clarify that yesterday's posting was in honor of the Nov. 11 anniversary of the New Kids on the Block concert. I wouldn't go around posting videos of Shirtless Jordan for no reason at all. That would be silly and immature. Marking the anniversary of a New Kids concert on a monthly basis ... well, that's what sensible, 33-year-old people do, right?

Anyway. Today I went to the Valentine's Day party at WCK's school. It was exciting, because I got to be on the Party-Planning Committee:

Actually, there were a lot of parents on the Valentine Party-Planning Committee -- pretty much everyone who didn't make the cut to be on the Christmas Party-Planning Committee -- so I don't know how much I actually contributed. It was still fun. I was amazed to see WCK in her school environment. Her teacher must be a miracle worker. A room of 18 three-year-olds sat perfectly still and waited for everyone to be seated and say a group prayer before they touched the snacks sitting right in front of them. Then, when everyone was done eating, each child asked if they could please be excused and cleaned up without being asked.

Does this happen at our house? Um. No. It does not.

P.S. Tonight I start Cycle 22 of Revlimid. I'm again too lazy to take a photo; you'll just have to picture those blue-and-white pills in a humorous situation. Water skiing? Attending an opera? Wearing lingerie? Let me know what you imagine!

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Video of Jordan Knight with no shirt on.

Really, do I need to say anything else? We will return to the world of the grownups in my next post. Maybe.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009


WCK has told me the following things about her future:

1. When she grows up, she is going to be an astronaut, a scientist who figures out the real reason the dinosaurs died out, and a construction worker.

2. She is going to have 18 little girls and move to Antarctica. When I told her Antarctica was really cold, she told me she'd buy all of the little girls hats and mittens from Target. When I told her there were no Targets in Antarctica, she seemed pretty devastated. Who knows? There could be Targets all over Antarctica in another 30 years. Super Targets, even.

3. When she is 45, she is going to learn to whistle. I suppose this will be after she raises her 18 children and retires from being an astronaut/scientist/construction worker and has some free time.

Sunday, February 08, 2009

Doesn't she know you catch more flies with honey?

WCK and I went to the grocery store yesterday, and she threw a full-blown tantrum in the cart: kicking, screaming, crying, yelling, wailing. WCK is generally very well-behaved in public and saves her tantrums for me at home. I'm used to grocery-store strangers beaming at us as I wheel past with the World's Cutest Kid smiling at everyone, or at least happily talking to herself. I am not used to the evil glares and/or looks of pity. I'm pretty sure we have a lifelong ban from the Price Chopper. The checkout lady pointed out that I was lucky that she at least remained in the cart and didn't try to escape. Mmm hmm. Truly, I was blessed.

In WCK's defense, she did apologize when we got home. "Mommy, I'm sorry I screamed at you at the store." It was so touching, I almost forgot about what happened. Then she threw another tantrum in the garage because I carried in the bag of groceries she wanted to carry. "I WANT TO DO THINGS MYSELF!!!" she sobbed. "AND YOU KEEP MESSING EVERYTHING UP!!!"

Now, why did my child freak out at the store? Is it because I refused to buy her a candy bar? A package of cookies? A toy? No. She freaked out because she wanted me to buy her a bottle of vinegar. True story.

Friday, February 06, 2009

Results and the dirt angel

I got my test results back yesterday, but I haven't had a chance to post them yet because the weather has been glorious here (60s and 70s!), and WCK and I have been spending a lot of time at different parks. Yesterday, I made the mistake of taking her to the park with the giant sand/dirt pit. She spent most of the time sitting in the sand/dirt, digging sand/dirt, throwing sand/dirt, and literally lying down and waving her arms and legs, trying to make sand/dirt angels. The weather was so nice, though, I didn't really care. That's why the good Lord made bath time.

Where was I? The results: M-spike is stable again at 1.6! Woo! I should be able to come down to 5 mg of Revlimid (the lowest dose possible) on the next cycle.

Also, my hemoglobin is still a robust 12.7, and that is after a month without the iron supplements. Go, red blood cells, go!

Monday, February 02, 2009

The box

Nearly every year when I was in elementary school, we'd have a Valentine-mailbox-designing contest. I always desperately wanted to win this contest. I never did. In fifth grade, I made a mailbox that looked like a house, complete with a heart-shaped yard and a little toothpick picket fence with hearts on it. I was sure that would win, but it did not. The next year, I went with a box covered in shiny pink paper with plastic teddy bears glued to it. As an 11-year-old girl in the '80s, I truly believed that this had to be the greatest mailbox design ever. Alas, I still did not win.

All those years ago, I thought my losses were a huge travesty of justice. Today, I helped WCK make a Valentine mailbox for preschool, and I started to wonder if those judges had a point.

WCK is having a Valentine party at school on the 12th, and everyone has to have their mailboxes and their Valentines "turned in" by the 10th. I figured we had better get moving, since we'll also need to write WCK's name on 17 Valentines after the box is done, and that could take days. I love that the teacher always arranges for things way in advance. Could it be that most preschool mothers tend to be scatterbrained and/or slow? Not me, of course. Others.

Anyway, my plan was to cover a shoebox in white paper and then let WCK go to town on it with markers and stickers. WCK did an excellent job with her part of the decorating; hopefully this will cover up my pitiful, pitiful wrapping job. The upside is that the teachers might think that WCK actually wrapped the box by herself, too. Maybe she'll win the "You Obviously Didn't Have Any Help From Your Mother" Award. Hey, any Valentine mailbox award in the family would make me proud.