Stuff. And, Some Rambling.

Sete and T. decided to live on the edge and take CG to see his very first movie in a theaters today. Chances are, he won't sit through the first 10 minutes, but still. They're giving it a try.

Sete called this morning to make sure I knew I was welcome to join them. She wasn't sure if I wanted to be there for this big event in his life. I immediately said, "No!", having entertained dreams about three hours on a Saturday afternoon with the house to myself for days now. I had big plans! I might even paint my toenails!

After I hung up, I felt a little guilty. Should I have been there for his Very First Big Boy Movie? Then I remembered. Three hours on a Saturday afternoon with the house to myself. So. Here I am blogging instead.

***
CG has been much better since our "situation" a few weeks ago. Somewhere over the next week he got his bearings again and started getting back into a routine. His bedtimes got back to normal, although he's now decided instead of Daddy putting him to bed he wants me to do it. Not sure why this changed, but we're certainly not going to argue with what works.

Despite his good habits at bedtime, he's still refusing to nap nearly every day of the week, which is a little frustrating. He's only two, and he could definitely benefit from regular naps. Every day, we try to put him down. He seems quiet, but half an hour later, we hear him talking to himself. Wait a little longer and he's dismantled his entire crib and is sitting there, waiting for us to come play with him. We're baffled, but I figure as long as he's sleeping his usual 12-14 hours a night, he'll be fine.

I'm happy to report that we stuck with the discipline routine, and he's spending much less time in The Chair then he was earlier this month. Counting to three works again (for now) and I usually only have to go to two before he starts to do what he's supposed to. He still has outbursts where, frustrated, he throws his toys or screams at us, but a stern look tends to drive out an apology.

All in all, I really can't complain right now. Typical toddler stuff, but he's relatively well mannered. Let's just hope this lasts for a little while. At least until he's 18 or so.

***
The Plague spread through our house after CG caught a cold earlier this month. I got it bad, and missed a few days of work. Jete got it after me and even had an ear infection for a few days. But Ethan, the one with the most to fear in getting sick, barely got a sniffle. He had a stuffy nose for two days and that was it.

I'd like to pat myself on the back for the general health both boys seem to entertain. I want to think they both have magical immune systems thanks to The Miracle of Breast Milk. That those exhausting months I spent pumping for Ethan were not wasted, and that's why he's so healthy now.

Unfortunately, I know I can't take the credit. Truth is, they almost never encounter germs. They're not in daycare, and they rarely see other kids. The minute they're in the school system full time? We're doomed.

***
Ethan will be having surgery in August with Surgeon #2. We met with him as my friend recommended, and he said exactly what I wanted to hear. He explained why the surgery is important outside of fertility (to maintain hormone production). He'd like to try to do both sides at once, if possible. And he said we should have an anesthesia consult to discuss all of his medications before the surgery, just to make sure there are no interactions.

After we left, I wondered what the difference was. Did he say everything I wanted to hear because he really thought those things? Or because he knew I had complained?

I decided it didn't matter. What mattered was that I felt more comfortable about the situation, and I did think he was approaching Ethan's care with a better attitude. He was treating Ethan as a complex individual, and I respected that. I didn't regret speaking up at all.

Although, I did feel like Surgeon #1 was stalking us the entire time we were there. I swear he was staring at us in the waiting room, and we had to walk right past him as we went into the exam room with Surgeon #2. He was in our way at first, then finally stepped back, looking confused. Jete just stared at him and said, "Hi, how you doing?" I held my head high and kept on walking. He wasn't my concern. Ethan was.

***
I got a copy of my college's alumni news this week. In it was a tribute to one of my old math professors, who apparently passed away earlier this year. It saddened me more than I thought it might have, considering I wasn't particularly close to him. But still, he touched my life.

My college was centered around business, engineering and law. Math was an afterthought, and the department was appropriately small. There were only three other math majors the year I graduated, and most of my classes had seven students or less. We had the same professors for two or three courses in our time there and tended to get more one-on-one attention as a result.

On my last day of Real Analysis, the course he taught, I brought my final to his desk. He stopped me before I left and gave me a copy of this book, which he had inscribed. I had always been a quiet student, eager to ask questions and give answers when I had them. But this was a proof course, which is my absolute favorite part of math, and I think my pure love of the subject came out in classes like this even more.

In the front cover, he wrote:

Mete,

Your presence in my class this semester enhanced the experience for everyone. You've done a wonderful job.

I thought you might enjoy this book. It's one of my favorites. Hope you find it as interesting as I did.

Prof.

This was a new experience for me, having a professor reach out to me personally. I was amazed that he thought that I might have made a difference in the experience of the class, to him or to the other students. I always think of this gesture as representative of my time at this college. All of the professors there were so wonderful, very encouraging and always on your side. He will definitely be missed there.

***
E is visiting the West Coast this weekend, and we're going out to dinner with a few other friends. I don't think I can appropriately explain how excited I am about this dinner. I haven't seen her in a long time ("Winter! There was definitely snow on the ground..." was all I could remember) so it will be great to reconnect.

But more importantly? We're going out. To a restaurant. Sure, I get takeout once a week or so, but other than the last-minute half days Jete and I take, I almost never go out to eat anymore. It's nearly impossible on weeknights, and on weekends we feel too guilty leaving the kids with a sitter when we didn't see them all week. (And of course going to a restaurant with the kids is neither practical nor relaxing.)

Do you know what that also means? I'm going to take a shower, and put on real clothes. On a Saturday! Wild!

Off to paint my toenails now... Hope you all have a nice weekend!