Merry 2-Mas!!!

Just a Random Day...
There is a flickering peach candle on our highest bookshelf...and an illuminated star casting snowflakes on the ceiling above our perennial Christmas Tree. Josh (who now stands 35 and 1/4 tall and weighs 31 pounds and will be two whole years old in only a matter of days!!!) is sprawled in my lap, and Jon (who has just turned 32 years old) is sprawled out next to me on the couch, his eyes closed like a big old cat as I scratch his head. We have been listening to carols for the last hour...and while Josh may have beaten us to the punch, we can feel the pull of that nice comfy bed calling us and we know we are not much longer for this world.

* * * * *

Jon's birthday did not go off without a hitch. Josh was going to be gallivanting around at Mom's place, but we were awakened on the drop-off day by (yes, really) another semi wreck (at five-thirty a.m., no less) and six or seven inches of snow. Mom had to call for "snow-check" and our boy-less weekend had to do a quick turnabout, but what can you do?


The truck driver seemed okay, and could charge about under his own power and even though the wreck succeeded in ripping the back doors of his trailer completely off, and there are now about seven orange reflective barrels where the guardrail should be, but it could have been worse. Once again, every truck and crew were out blocking up our road for the entire day...(Jon chose that day to mention that his greatest fear since he was three was that a semi would come barreling into the house -- ack!). In this case, that would have been Grandma Irene's concern. The trailer actually ended up straddling the guardrail and posts and when it finally crashed to a stop it was just on the small hill right above her house, the effect was such that every knick-knack and plate fell off of Irene's shelves. If the guardrail hadn't stopped the truck (and, in fairness, if the copse of trees hadn't been there, too), it would have likely rolled over and over into Irene's home. If that didn't give her cause for an all out flutter attack, she's also having trouble seeing out of one of her eyes lately...so she was in High Anxiety mode for a day and a half. Love the woman, I really do. I get that it was a freaky experience and I truly can empathize...but Lord love her, I want to strap her to an i.v. filled with nothing but the strongest decaf I can find. You have to understand...she thinks that if someone takes the time to make her a cup of coffee when she comes to visit that it is an occasion for a Greek chorus, so believe me, when she truly has reason to get caught in the rafters, it takes quite the effort to calm her down again. Again, could not love the woman more, really, I could not. But seriously, DECAF!!! She had to have been a hummingbird in another life, I just know it.



Friday continued to be a little bit different, a little bit odd...poor Jon was still be-plagued, in part due to some unanticipated cold-rain exposure, and in part to the sinus infection that ate Chicago. He was feeling so awful that when Josh went down for his nap, Jon and I crashed too...and Jon stayed coma until about five-thirty. He woke up feeling rested and better for the first time ever this week. Of course, the roads finally started looking travel-worthy late that evening, so Jon took the three of us out to dinner. Then, we went bowling at this little ten-lane, mom-and-pop alley in M-...We were practically the only ones there, and then Uncle Harry showed up, too. They have a ramp-rig so the little ones could play too. You place a bowling ball on the top,and the little kid gives it a push, and the ball goes charging down the alley. Believe it or not, Josh's score beat mine (of course, if you knew how I normally bowl, you probably wouldn't be that surprised). He was even getting strikes with the ramp thing. Harry and Josh were in one lane (Jon and I tried to take our turns helping, but really, the love-fest between Harry and the small, silly boy is something that is hard to breakup) and Josh was completely into it. He would yell and clap and dance every time he hit a pin...then he would pout and fuss if he guttered. Jon wanted to pout and fuss too, as it had been ages since he had been bowling and he was apparently sucking air. I tried to convince him that we were playing by golf rules that night, and that the one with the lowest score won, but he didn't buy it. Of course, when Jon goes to bowl, each pin is his mortal enemy and must be taken down. I tend to be happy if I don't knock out the poor fool three lanes away. I am so bad at bowling that if I were in a league, the lead scorer wouldn't even have to touch the ball to have a continuous perfect score. I think I make Jon's skin itch when I bowl, but I'm willing to bet that unlike his pins, none of mine have felt the need to immerse themselves in the Witness Protection Program.



The next day, the Small and Squirrelly One was kidnapped by Jon's parents, and we managed to work in an actual date day. It was wonderful and so very much needed. I kept looking at Jon and he looked exactly as young and as handsome as he did when I first met...he'll deny it, but he'll point out that I (and small boy) contributed to his collection of gray hairs first.




Speaking of hair, my sweet, gentle soul mother has effectively threatened to firebomb my head if I ever decide to cut Josh's hair again. A few weeks ago, it was getting long, it was in his eyes, and it made him scratch at his ears, so I tried to trim it. Moving boy and scissors...now there's a brilliant idea. So he had a total of fifteen different hairlines. And the lead singer from Flock of Seagulls called to complain of copyright infringement. I say, "BAH!". (It is a parent's god-given duty to make their innocent prodigy look really, really durfy. It's in the contract, I know it.)No, what made it really bad was that every time I looked at the dear, sweet face of my innocent son, I would then look at his hair... and I would laugh so hard that I couldn't breathe. So, of course I had to try to "fix" the problem. And then I had to try to "fix" what I had tried to "fix"...it was a nearly endless loop...I say "nearly", because sooner or later, he was eventually going to run out of hair. Finally, Jon had to stage an emergency intervention and took the poor child to barbershop where they did a fair job alleviating the damage I had caused... Sheesh! No one appreciates artistic sensibilities these days.

* * * * *

We have now come to Josh's very first, well, very second birthday. We began the day with breakfast at McDonald's and where Josh had hash browns and cinnamon roll and I had coffee and a burrito. It was quite exciting. Josh didn't get a single crumb on himself, but I continued my graceful streak (I have broken another toe -- don't worry, this time it's on the other foot -- stupid, lousy chair!) by pouring half of my coffee into my lap. Ahhh, so Refreshing! Then I dropped a drippy bite of cinnamon down the front of my shirt, so by the time we hit Josh's eye appointment, I looked like something even the cat wouldn't deign to drag in. As I tried to fill out the paperwork, Josh wanted to take the pen or hand me his drawing tablet so that I could sketch something for him and the little ladies behind the desk just chuckled at his cuteness -- seriously, why can't there just be a swipey-card with all pertinent insurance and health stuff on it so that mothers with active toddlers could just concentrate on keeping the active toddler out of the office Christmas tree. Paperwork and a two-year old -- it's just a bad idea, people!



The doc says that Josh seems to be extremely farsighted, but needs another appointment to gauge it better. Sadly, I have to dose Josh's eyes with some drops that will sting right before the appointment to make it easier for the Doc to make his assessment (or more accurately, as the doc put it, have Josh be mad at me and not the doc during the visit) -- Blah! I don't like it, but I keep hoping that maybe he will outgrow this or something (which may be a possibility)...otherwise, I have to try to figure out how to keep glasses on a two year old. *Sigh.*
Happy thoughts and prayers would be appreciated.



After the appointment, we went to the store where Josh batted his eyes, and the girls in the bakery gave him a cookie. (Okay, it's actually standard practice for them to give a free cookie to all little kids, but then that would ruin the joke, wouldn't it ;P ) Josh picked out his cake...a little heart-shaped one with butter cream icing (boy after my own heart) and got one of his presents, and then we went home for a nap...He's slept about three hours, I think. May have to go in an poke him. Tonight we go to the first of his birthday parties (he'll be the only little person there, this time) at Papa Tim and Granma Wish's (Rhonda -- because she wishes she could get her Josh-fix more often) house...and with all of the cuteness and sweetness and general warm fuzziness going on this evening, I may need to borrow Tim's insulin. His birthday with Grandma Marsh(a) (the Wild Woman) has to be postponed due to an incoming ice-storm that will be slamming into us and calling us all Shirley this weekend.



Somehow, though, I feel certain there will be another cake with Josh's name on it in the near future...and probably another offer of a pony...especially as Josh's vocab expanded just in time for Grandma Marsh(a) to hear him ask for "Grandma" on the phone. You know, if I had realized that was all it took to get a pony, I would have called her "Grandma" when I was going through my mad, crazy horse phase, years ago...Of course, my mother probably wouldn't have seen the humor in being called Grandma when I was nine years old.

Thank you all once again, for your prayers and good wishes this year. Josh is healthy, and ornery, and as Aunt Suz is fond of saying, "just Sunshine". He is Sunshine that thinks his mother and father are the greatest jungle gyms of all time, but he is Sunshine. He is as determined as ever to do what it is that he has been sent here to do, and as usual, Jon and are I are along for this wild and crazy ride. Thank you for thinking of us. Love you bunches.

Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to try to figure out where the heck we're going to put a stable.