And So It Begins . . .

Tomorrow, Matthew and I will start Weight Watchers. We did this together four years ago, with tremendous success (roughly speaking, I lost 50 pounds, and Matthew lost 70!) We're doing it together again, and looking forward to similar spectacular results.

And you, my dear friends and family, can follow our progress if you like (no, not on Twitter!) I will set up a widget on the left hand side of the blog, that tracks our weight loss progress. Encouragement is always welcome. If I can talk Matthew into it, there will be monthly photos, as well.

So stay tuned . . . and get out your foam fingers, pom-poms, and other cheering paraphernalia!

Riddle

What do you get when you cross a 3 year old rock star with frozen blueberries?

Goth Star!

Musical Moments

Honey

A well known reality of feeding toddlers and preschoolers: They are much more likely to eat it, if they helped to make it. With that in mind, I recruited Malcolm to help me make a vegetable to go with tonight's main course of Dirty Rice with Sausage. Malcolm expressed great enthusiasm over helping me with my cooking project, from start to finish. He picked out a butternut squash from the fridge, and washed his hands while I washed the squash. I cut it in half, then he enthusiastically stabbed it repeatedly with a fork, to break the skin. We microwaved it, then scooped out the pulp. Malcolm sprinkled it with kosher salt and ground the pepper almost all by himself. I saved the best part for last. I let him squeeze the honey.

Now, please understand, that honey is a favorite food for Malcolm, bordering on a sacred experience. When he's sick, he gets a spoonful of honey, per his pediatrician's orders, to help sooth the coughing. This is why Malcolm enjoys being sick. "I can have honey, Mommy?"

Needless to say, Malcolm was delighted to learn that he could squeeze honey into the squash. I watched him stir it all together while I put the honey jar away, listening to him talk about how he was going to eat it, and could he taste it, and Mommy, please put some on my plate. I thought to myself, "I should get the smartest Mommy of the year award."

Dinner came, and he ate his vitamin, then picked all the sausage out of his dirty rice . . . and my dirty rice . . . and Matt's dirty rice . . . and the leftovers still on the stove. But he didn't touch his squash. Hmmm . . . .

"Malcolm," I asked. "Are you going to eat the squash? Remember, you helped me make it. We poked it with the fork, and you mixed the honey in?"

He looked at me, then the squash. "That's the squash, with the honey in it," I told him again.

"I need you to get it out!"

About ten minutes later, when Matthew and I stopped laughing so hard we turned purple, Malcolm sent us back into gales of laughter by adding in his most serious voice, and looking hopefully towards where we store the spoons, "Mommy, I need honey in a different way."

Child Life Month

The month of March is designated as "Child Life Month," a time for Child Life Specialists to promote, educate and celebrate their profession. Here is a poem for you, adapted from a poem written by Steve Slowinski)

I am not a nurse, a doctor or social worker.

I am not the Keeper of Toys, or the magical “make-this-kid-not-cry” person.

I am not just someone to play with the kids.

I am not superfluous.

I am a teacher, a helping hand, a support, an advocate.

I am an active listener, a therapeutic touch and a child development expert.

Every single day.

I am an Or prep-er, an IV teacher,

A de-coder of PICC, VCUG, MRI and NG,

A distraction provider, an inpatient support,

And a guide and voice for siblings.

All in the same day.

I am calm despite cancer, CAT scans and catheters.

I am strong in the face of syncope, sickle cell and surgery.

I am flexible and go where I’m needed,

Because children can’t always be flexible

About when they’re going to freak.

I am a Child Life Specialist.

When kids say they can’t, I tell them they can.

(Guest Blogger Matthew) Passing a Bluff Check

We play a particular game a lot called "I'm Going to Get There First." The title is pretty self-explanatory but what can I say, it gets the manbeast places in a happy and fast way and has really shorted out some imminent tantrums.

Anyway we took Teresa to work this morning and we get back to the apartment complex. We're headed to our building, and once we are at the sidewalk, I initiate IGTGTF. And I'm keeping a couple paces in front of him for the stretch, as I usually do, planning on coming up slow at the end, as per usual. He's a couple paces behind and says in his "I am not having fun" voice, "No, Daddy, I have to hold your hand." I assent, slow to a walk and hold out my hand. For his part, he briefly clasps my hand before tugging back on it and rocketing forward at a full run, leaving me behind. So... hello deception.