Another Doctor in the Family

This afternoon, Malcolm was playing quietly by himself while I did dishes. Unrelated to anything he was playing with, or anything we had talked about recently, he said to me, "Mom, why is Julie a doctor?" (Julie is one of my cousins who we enjoy seeing at my family reunion each summer.)

Knowing how very literal minded my sweet 5 year old is, I said to him, "Because Julie went to medical school."

"So, I can go to medical school, too," Malcolm asked. "Then I can be a doctor like Julie?"

"Yup!" I told him.

"Well, then. That is what I'm going to do!" Malcolm said.

So, the little man has a plan. The first of it's kind, by the way. Prior to this conversation, he enjoyed plenty of make believe play of all sorts, but never expressed any plan for "what he wants to be when he grows up."

Super Malcolm

(and his parents, Teresa & Matthew Schoell)

are "Making Strides" for Breast Cancer Research!

Would you like to help?

Visit the Making Strides Website to make a donation to this wonderful fundraising event! You can donate to the team as a whole, or click on any of our names.

On a personal note . . . the Making Strides fundraiser is quickly becoming a yearly tradition for our family. (The picture above is of our family at last year's walk). Matthew and I have family who have battled breast cancer (and beat it!), so it is a cause near and dear to our hearts. This year, we will walk in honor of my dear friend, N*, who currently battles one of the nastiest types of breast cancer out there. She is strong and brilliant, and if anyone can kicked this super-cancer's butt, she can!

With much love,

Teresa, Matthew & Malcolm

We are Homeowners!

After a few mishaps (like the sellers not showing up to closing and being nearly-homeless for a week before we tracked them down), we have finally closed and moved into our new home. A few surprises in plumbing and electric that our inspector somehow missed, but our wonderful plumber/handyman has us all sorted out. Here are some pictures:

If you would like our new address, drop me an email,

or post a comment and I'll send it to you.

My Really Crappy Day

Yesterday was a Horrible Terrible No Good Very Bad Day. My wallet was stolen, and some lowlife had a shopping spree ($2000+) while I was at work. We cancelled our credit cards (we only have two) and my ATM card, and the banks are sorting it all out, so we aren't on the hook for the $800 he spent on sneakers, the $400 in gift cards he bought at wegmans, and the $500 he spent on video games, etc etc etc. I only had about $20 in cash . . . . but I had 8 movie theatre vouchers and all my "valued customer" cards for all my favorite stores -- I was only one punch away from a free haircut. All our insurance cards, AAA. . . And my special coupon for 10% off all my kitchen appliances at Lowes. (Since we're supposed to close on our new house in two weeks, this coupon was especially valuable - the house comes without kitchen appliances.)

And, of course, my driver's license. But wait, here's the extra kick in the teeth -- last week when I was reading through our mortgage papers, I learned that the Patriot Act requires the paperwork people to verify our identity at the closing day by viewing either a drivers' license or passport (happily I have my passport!), and my social security card. The paperwork was very clear -- If I forget and show up to closing without my social security card, the closing will be postponed. So, of course, I dug out my social security card, and tucked it into my wallet, so there would be no way for me to forget it on closing day in two weeks. AAAAGGGGGHHH!

I spent the afternoon on the phone with credit card companies and banks, then meeting with the police, then talking with hospital security (my wallet was stolen from the parking lot at work, where it fell out of my purse, unnoticed, as I got out of my car in the morning), and then downtown at the social security office. The gave me a receipt stating that I should receive my new card in "7 to 10 business days" -- which means if there are NO screw ups or delays, it will arrive by Aug 6th -- two days before closing date. They won't issue me a new SS # -- which I requested for fear of identity theft since the thief has my name, address, and SS#. They said that won't give me a new number until AFTER I've been a victim of identity theft. Meanwhile, I'm instructed to "watch my credit report." So called all the credit reporting agencies and had the put Fraud Alerts on my files.

The driver's license I can replace on-line -- but need a valid credit card to pay the replacement fee. I don't have one of those right now, since I cancelled both of ours. ARGH! Matt's Mom kindly put it on her credit card. We were able to make it over to my bank before they closed, and they were kind enough to give me some cash straight out of my account (no ATM card) so that I could buy groceries and gas for the car this weekend. Of course, I can't drive the car any where because I don't have a license.

And all this when Matthew is in his last 24 hours before his Board Exams. UGH! Would it make me a bad person if I wished this lowlife a nasty case of necrotizing fasciitis?

On the upside -- Pittsford Wegmans was one of the many stores where he managed to shop in the 3.5 hours the card was active (bought a bunch of gift cards for other stores). I spoke with the head of wegmans security who was awesome -- I gave him the exact time and $ amount of the fraudulent charge, and he searched through register receipts until he found it -- then cross referenced it with the security cameras, and found a nice clear photo of the guy to share with the police. When last we spoke, he was searching through parking lot footage to try and get a make/model/color on the guy's car for the police as well. Whether anyone will be able to ID him from the photo is a whole other matter . . .

I feel so angry.

I feel violated.

I hate this.

Story Time

The other morning, I stumbled bleary eyed from my bed to brush my teeth and wash my face. As I returned to my bedroom to begin dressing for the day, Malcolm rushed in (naked as the day he was born) to give me a huge hug, and tell me, "Mommy I so very love you. You're the best."

Today is going to be a good day, I thought.

Malcolm spent the next few minutes playing with the dogs, my alarm clock, Matthew's pillow, our down comforter, and then sprawled across the entire king size bed to declare, "Look at me! I'm stealing your Zzz's!"

Yes, indeed, I thought, he most definitely is. I fixed him with my sternest Mommy Glare (ruined by my poorly camouflaged giggle) and told him "Go. Get. Dressed."

He scampered off to his room, while I took my own advice. Khakis, I think, and reached into my closet. As I buttoned my most comfortable pair of pants, Malcolm ran back in wearing dark blue jeans, but as yet lacking the rest of the accouterment required for preschool attendance (like something to cover his bellybutton).

"Mommy! We're notted!" he declared with delight, then ran back to his room.

. . . ? . . . I thought, and reached for my red polo shirt. As I pulled it over my head, Malcolm returned in a blaze of exuberance.

"We're notted!" he squealed in delight, hugged me and ran back to his room.

. . . . ? ? ? . . . Oh well, at least he'd added a green t-shirt to his outfit, and the chances of making it to preschool on time were looking up.

As I pulled a brush through my hair, Malcolm reappeared. His smile of delight crumpled as he stared intently at my feet.

"Mommy!" he said, with disgust and disappointment thick in his voice. "I have a shirt and you have a shirt. And the two of us have pants. But you don't have socks on and I do!"

I gazed bewilderedly from my bare toes to his sock clad feet, and thought I better skip the decaf this morning. If I make myself a triple espresso, this might start to make sense.

Malcolm sighed, gathering his patience with heroic effort. "Mommy," he carefully explained, "You need to put on your socks. Right now I am winning. And I don't want to be winning. I wanted to be notted."

Notted? Notted? . . . . . !!!!

"Knotted?" I asked Malcolm.

"Yes, Mommy! I want the two of us to be knotted!"

He has got to be the cutest thing, ever, I thought. "Sweetheart, do you mean you want us to be tied?"

"Of course, Mommy! Put your socks on, so we can be tied!"

What else could I do? I put on my socks.

Picture Tuesday

My, My . . . How You've Grown

I had hoped to post some clever April Fool's ruse . . . but sadly my creative juices don't seem to be flowing. Instead, I bring you this lovely look back in time . . . . A host of Malcolm pictures from various Aprils over the years . . .

April 2007

April 2008

April 2009

April 2010

April 2011