A thousand words

I could write volumes about our really fun family vacation, but I'll let the pictures do the talking...

Last one home is a rotten egg.

Two years ago, we finally brought Evan home from the hospital. One Hundred and Forty Seven days after his extremely early arrival we were overjoyed to finally have him under our roof.

There was still trepidation. He was still on an apnea monitor, and we were given emergency oxygen. Was he really ready? Were we? There were mixed emotions. What about Ryan, poor baby, would he be okay, would he miss his brother?

We were going, no matter. "Aunt" Julie and "Aunt" Tina, walked us down to the car, and away we went.

(you can see me in the background, even as Julie is walking out of the NICU, I'm saying one last goodbye to Ryan, even though I'll be seeing him in the morning, I can barely leave)

Evan in his car seat, riding home, with a smile.

First steps into the house.

Dearly departed Samson, checking out the "thing" Mommy brought home..."hmmm, something tells me I'm not going to like this."

Is there anything better than a cuddle on the couch with Daddy?

It's hard to believe it's been two years. It feels like they've always been here. That my house has always looked like a cyclone hit. That I've always had their smiles first thing in the morning and the last thing at night to warm me and fill me with love.

On this anniversary I thought I'd list a few of Evan's sayings. These days there are many but these are my favorite:

Two funny guys
Pickle puss
Hi goose
Evan RyRy go
More Neigh
Hockey Puck
Good Job Ev-an
No more monkeys jumping on bed (as he's jumping on the sofa, and I am counting to three)


Two years bring on a lot of changes, thank goodness the NICU's and apnea monitors and oxygen are all behind us now. The worries over language development, gross motor and fine motor development are subsiding as each passing day brings (sometimes shocking) mastery of skills.

Two years of love and laughter filling our home because this guy finally decided to come home.

Poop in the Potty

Yep. We've had our first successful poop in the potty.

Yeaaaaaah EVAN!!!

Last night he said he had to go poop. Off we trotted to the potty, and there we sat for a very long time. I could see he was pushing and trying to poop, and after a little while, he left a nice Hershey's Kiss sized poop in the potty!

We took pictures, but I've thought twice about posting on the blog...kind of gross, no?

Days 3 and 4: I don't want to sleep in bed

Ryan has only climbed out of his crib once each of the last two nights.
I think we may have (knock on wood) fixed this problem.

Day Two: I Don't Want to Sleep in Bed

After last nights hysterics and knowing that tonight Ryan couldn't get out of his room and find his way out of the house and on to the busy street outside our house, I slept in bed. Scott took over Ryan duty, from the couch.

Ryan woke up on cue at 10, caught him on his way out of his crib and I coaxed him back to sleep, in bed. He slept there peacefully until about 3:30 AM when, as Scott reports he climbed out of his crib and was attempting to get out of his room. Scott put him back in bed, told him to stay there. There was crying for no more than about ten minutes and all was quiet.


This is what we found this morning...




For those of you that don't recognize it immediately on sight...he's reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. (or as Evan calls it, yell-ouw Pot-t-ter)

So, we assume, after realizing he couldn't get out, and we were just going to put him back in to bed, he settled himself down to read a little.

*I should have mentioned yesterday that in his antics of climbing out of the crib, he was very rarely alone. Sometimes one Snoopy joined him, sometimes two, sometimes it was two Snoopys and a Pooh.

How many calories do you burn...

...putting a 30 pound child back in to his crib?

I'm sure, when the number is somewhere between 120 and 1000, you burn off enough for an extra big bowl of sunshine, right?

Between the hours of 10 PM and 1 AM last night I picked up Ryan and tossedplaced him gently back into his crib about once every two minutes. I stood at his door while he tossed his leg over the side and hopped right out, and opened the door, for three hours. I slept (and i use that word loosely) on the floor outside his door from about 1:30 (give or take) until 6. (I'm tired)

He started this behavior while we were on vacation. He found out he could easily get in and out of the porta crib. So instead of self soothing, like he's done since birth, he's cried, and cried, and climbed out of his crib to come find someone. I thought he might not do it once we returned home. I thought wrong.

Sunday night I think Scott stayed in the room with Ryan after he climbed out for the fourth time. Last night I knew I had to nip this in the bud right away. Thus my vigil.

Today I stopped at the Depot and got two new door handles. I installed one on Ryan's door before naps. One should never try to install a door handle on a few hours of sleep. I had most of the original hardware off, when I went to work on the handle on the inside of the door. And the door shut. And the handle came off. And I couldn't get out. After a couple of panic filled moments I MacGyver'ed my way out of the room, installed the door knob, and now the boys are asleep. So far, not a peep from a VERY, VERY EXHAUSTED Ryan.

...and I'm looking for big boy beds.

My Friend

I've seriously been a slacker with my blog, and I have a lot of things to say. We just returned from a lovely vacation with the family and I've got lots of funny stories that I'd better get written down before I forget them.

(In fact, excuse me while I write a few notes to myself. first real time out. nannies house. more bike ride please. pa-pa-chute. failure to sleep. climbing in and out of cribs.)

I've come out of my quiet spot, to write a few words about my friend. Our friend.

I've mentioned my obscure sport, kayak polo, well it's how I met my friend Albert. He was living here at the time and when Scott and I started playing the game, Albert was one of the first people to welcome in to the group of crazies that make up kayak polo in the US.

Albert's personality was bigger than he was. (and he was of above average height) He always had a smile on his face, a story on his tongue, and warmth in his heart. He was the guy, the guy who knew everyone. The guy who had more friends, and people to see, than anyone else I have ever known. His heart was so big I'm shocked it fit inside his chest.

Albert had many physical talents. In addition to kayaking, he played handball, hockey, lacrosse, tennis, and he taught himself to play the piano a few years ago. Everything he did, he did with a passion, an did it to a very high level.

Albert moved to San Francisco a few years ago, but he visited us often. Many times when he was in town, he stayed with us. Before we had kids, we had our piano in the "music room". This was also known as Albert's room. He was the only one that played our piano regularly. (I've mentioned that I'm a slacker) He'd sit down and plunk away. Sometimes we'd have a few people over and we'd be sitting around talking, and laughing, and the next thing you know, Albert would be playing the piano. He wasn't the greatest, but he worked hard at it, and he was passionate.

In 2004 I competed in the Canoe Polo World Championships in Japan as a member of the US Women's team. Albert was on the Men's team. I was in Japan for four weeks, three of them spent with Albert. The teams would share meals together, bus rides, sightseeing adventures, walks to practice, we basically lived together, the two teams. Some of my fondest memories of Albert come from this time. Albert was great helping me train. He'd sometimes call just to find out how training was going.

While in Japan, Albert was a bit of a celebrity. He resembled famous a sumo wrestler, named Waka-no-hana, and everywhere we'd go, people would giggle, point, and stare. Albert also loved to eat, and the Japanese appreciate a good eater. The people who ran the ryokans we stayed in loved that Albert would take third and fourth helpings.

One of the boys favorite songs is, "Leaving on a Jet Plane" and it reminds me of Albert. One day we were making the walk from the pitch back to our ryokan, ans Albert started to sing. "I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again..." He got lost in the words, and the group of us tried to remember them, and then, we struggled to figure out who sang the song! Many times since his illness was revealed, as I've sat singing this to the boys, with John Denver's help, I've thought of Albert and this moment in Japan.

We were able to visit Albert in December. He was in good spirits, looking thin, but his personality was the same. He was up beat, and he was confident he was going to beat the cancer. He was diagnosed with Stage IV Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer (many tumors, largest golf ball size) Brain Metastasis (about 2 dozen tumors larges golf ball size)Bone Metastasis and Spleen Metastasis. He was given, at best 4-7 months to live. A few months into treatment, he had doctors shaking their heads as the tumors in his lungs and brain had all but disappeared. It looked like this long shot might just come in.

In July things turned again, his cancers began progressing again, and on August 20, 2008, he finally succumbed to his cancer.

My heart is heavy for the loss of our dear friend. The world is a little less bright without Albert's smile to brighten things up, and a little quieter, with out his laugh.