Alive and Well

Tuesday Henry went back to school. I was happy and so was he. It's nice to be healthy again and back into a routine. Today Henry had the day off since it was another teacher work day, so we slept in and were lazy. Then we went out and bought a rake (the old one got destroyed a while back when Ben was trying to dislodge that dead bird stuck in a tree). After lunch Henry insisted that I transform the pumpkin that's been sitting on our porch into a Jack O'Lantern. So I did that. Henry didn't like the smell of the pumpkin guts. I'm not big on the smell, either, but that's the price you pay when you want a Jack O'Lantern on your porch instead of a boring old pumpkin.

Henry liked the finished product. Me, too.


Then I raked up some leaves and Henry jumped in them. The raking reminded me how recently I'd been sick. Now I'm tired and ready for a nap. But I guess I'll make that pumpkin cheesecake instead.

Round Two

Well, we're at war with the plague at our house. This morning I was feeling pretty good, what after the week I've had. Yeah, that first day Henry got sick was rough. It's better now that he's old enough to run to the toilet when he's got to puke, unlike when he was a baby and somebody had to hold him with a bucket positioned under his head. But still, he doesn't quite make it every time. So all day after he got home from school I was cleaning up puke and the puked on kid. My hands were pruney from all the washing and hand sanitizer; I was really, really on top of things. And then as I was drying Henry off after a trip to the bath tub I didn't turn my head fast enough and he breathed right in my face. Then and there I knew I was doomed. I decided to sleep upstairs to keep watch over Henry, also to avoid the unsavory germs Ben was breathing out. I felt just a little sick as I went to bed that night, but I said, "Screw you, Germs!" and went to sleep. I felt pretty good the next morning and helped Henry recuperate. Then about three a.m. the puke virus woke me up and I ended up sleeping on the bathroom floor in between barfing sessions. The following two days after that were spent eating next to nothing and sleeping as much a possible.

So yeah, today started out okay. I got up and hurried to the shower and arrived a half hour late to a church training meeting. I was glad that they had refreshments (or in my case, breakfast) afterward. Then I went to the library and picked up some books, then came home and found Henry sprawled in his chair looking pathetic. 102 temperature. Dang it! I though we kicked this crap already! So I washed my hands, went back out and bought a bunch of stuff from the store. Hopefully he'll be okay to go back to school on Monday. Hopefully I won't be getting a fever. Hopefully Ben won't either.

And if the cat gets sick I'm going to lose my mind.

School... a Blessing and a Plague

I love that Henry's in school and he loves it, too. He's learning and having fun, and I have all morning to sit in silence or read a book, clean the house, or waste time on the internet. School is marvelous, a wonderful blessing. School is also a breeding ground for the little miseries in my life. It is the place where Henry is exposed to numerous strains of diseases, be it rhino-viruses or puking bugs, or flu. Today is the third time this month that Henry's gotten sick. Luckily I was at home, having already volunteered and visited the library, when I got a phone call from school informing me that Henry puked and needed someone to come get him. His puked-on clothes are drying in the dryer and his puked-on comforter is in the washer; as soon as it's in the dryer his puked-on bed sheets are next.

Henry's asleep right now. Whatever he's got it's nasty. Anything that gets Henry to sleep during daylight hours usually is. So right now I'm praying that it's just a stomach bug and not the flu. I really don't want to deal with the flu right now. Mostly because I know I will end up with it, then Ben.

Well, time for some more hand sanitizer. I best run along and Lysol the whole house.

Another Saturday Well Spent

Today Henry got his finger bitten by a bird, but that was the only bad thing that happened. This morning Ben, Henry, and I got up early and went and cleaned the church. While I was busy wiping little fingerprints off all the glass windows and doors, Ben emptied trash cans and wiped down chalkboards, and Henry ran around with one of those push sweeper things and cleaned the carpet. Usually there are other people there to help, but this time it was just us three. I'm really glad we had the opportunity to work together as a family and do some service. Goodness knows we do very little teamwork cleaning at home, so any chance we get to do extracurricular stuff can't be doing us any harm.

After that we went to see one of Ben friends. We didn't have to be there until the afternoon, so since Mom and Dad's was on the way, we stopped by for a surprise visit. They weren't home, so we ended up hanging out with Uncle Dave and watched a football game while Henry played. Then we finished off some enchiladas that were in the fridge. Hope you weren't planning on eating them, Mom and Dad. If so, please accept the dishes I washed as payment for eating your food without your explicit permission. Also, Henry ate three chicken nuggets and an apple.

Then we went to Asheboro to visit Ben's friend. While Ben and I hung out with him and a bunch of other people, Henry ran off to play with a little girl that was there. They had a parakeet in a cage in the hallway around the corner from us that attracted his attention. Although he was informed many times by various people, including the little girl, that the bird was not friendly and would bite, apparently the temptation was too much for him and he stuck his finger in the cage and the bird bit him. Somebody saw him holding his finger as he quietly departed from the cage. It seemed like he wasn't going to say anything but when he saw that we knew what happened, he came over for a hug. Poor kid's finger really hurt; there was a little puncture on his fingertip so we washed it up and discussed why we shouldn't poke our fingers into birdcages. Henry still wanted to be friends with the bird, though, and asked what would happen if he fed it a chip. I guess it's a weird human thing to want to be friends with animals, even if they're dangerous, as if just because we like them the animal will naturally like us in return. I think Henry learned a valuable lesson today. On the way out I facetiously asked Henry if he wanted to give the bird a goodbye kiss. Henry seriously answered no, because the bird would bite his lip. Smart kid. I'm sad his finger and his feelings got hurt, but hopefully this will prevent him from ending up like some other well-intentioned goobs that got eaten by grisly bears and mauled by tigers and stuff.

Clarification

For those under the impression that I can still squeeze my blubbery post-baby butt in high school jeans, thanks for the compliment. Unfortunately, none of my high school jeans survive so I can't find out for certain, but I really think it's a safe bet to assume otherwise. My high school t-shirts, on the other hand, were purchased solely for what was printed on them, not at all for fit, and hence 99% of those were huge on me anyway, and yes, I still have some and they serve as nightgowns now.

Aside from the above referenced t-shirt nightgowns and a few of those itchy burlap shirt things stuffed in a box somewhere (because you have to save a few high school clothes for your kids to see one day and go, "Damn, Mom, that's hideous; I can't believe you used to wear that!") These are the only high school items I have left and have actually worn recently:



On another note, Henry's sick today. His nose is a faucet and he's been coughing incessantly. I decided to keep him home from school today. In case you need photographic evidence that Henry's still cute when he's sick:

Another One of Them There Birthdays

Yep, I'm one year older and wiser, too. I guess in spite of a few unpleasant nuggets, the past year has been pretty good. Mostly because I have an awesome family, awesome friends and neighbors. I guess it's in my nature to be a little cynical, mostly because the bad things in life are so dang obvious, and I can always find something to complain about even though I know perfectly well no matter how bad things get they could be worse. In spite of all that, I can honestly say from personal experience I know that things tend to work themselves out for the best and that the best blessings usually come right when you need them most. I went to the General Relief Society Broadcast two weeks ago. It was a last minute decision for me again because I forgot about it, but I got up and went anyway. Right away I saw someone I knew and sat with her, ate a nice dinner and made conversation with someone I didn't know. I'm still shy and not fond of big crowds of strangers, but I dealt and it was all good. Last weekend there was a Temple Square Mission reunion in Utah that I didn't get to attend, but some cool folks posted photos and stuff on facebook, so I got a little taste, I guess. Thanks to a good friend I got a quote from Sister Snow (I love that lady): "In the end it will all be OK. If it is not OK than it isn't the end." I want that to be the title of my life's story. I want to be optimistic as much as possible because I truly believe there's a reason to be.

Maggie came with Wesley on Monday and we went birthday shopping. I like shopping with Maggie because I seriously hate shopping for myself to the point that I almost never do it unless she's there. Plus she has a no-nonsense way of telling me that my clothes are hideous and to freaking change them already. Aside from being a picky tomboy, one of my major faults is hanging onto old things. Like a pair of Chuck Taylor's from high school. I wore them a few weeks ago, I swear. And I still have a pair of church shoes from twelve years ago that are still in pretty good shape, but are so out of style and really I should just chuck them and buy new shoes, but I hate shoe shopping so much I just keep putting it off year after year. I had an eye examination today and my prescription changed (my eyesight actually got better, believe it or not) and instead of picking out a new pair of glasses I opted to keep my three year old frames and swap out lenses. I still wear the same old t-shirts and jeans and have absolutely nothing I could wear if I had to attend a formal dinner somewhere. Sure, I could go out and buy a whole new wardrobe, but ten years from now I'd just be back in the same boat. This is why I need to be rich and have someone to shop for me so I can look good while I continue to be lazy and indifferent to fashion.

Oh, well. It'll all be okay in the end.

How'd They Manage in the Dark Ages?

Tuesday after I got Henry on the bus I went down and volunteered at the school doing busy work for the teachers. There wasn't a whole lot to do since there were a ton of moms there, so I busied myself with cutting out laminated stuff. Then I paired up with a much taller mom and dismantled an art display on a wall of the office. When we were done pulling stuff off the wall, we packed it all up and took it down to the art room, where Henry's class just happened to be at the moment. The other mom went and said hey to her kid while I looked around for Henry. He wasn't in the room, so I assumed, with only the slightest doubt, he was probably in the bathroom. The other mom had to make a stop at the kids' classroom, so I tagged along. Then Henry's teacher sees me and her face is genuinely happy, so right away I'm suspicious. Turns out Henry wasn't feeling well and had a slight fever and the office had been trying to reach me. This all happened an hour and a half before while I was in the workroom, and in the office, where my kid was probably waiting in the nurse's room. Anyway, Henry was feeling a little better so they'd sent him down to the art room. Well, since he was coughing and had a runny nose, I went ahead and signed him out for the day, collected his stuff and met him in the art room. The kids were all painting pictures of leaves so I waited until the end of art class for them to finish up. Of course, he was circling me like a puppy while I was leading him out, and by the time Ben got home from work he was back to his old self.

Ben had been concerned because he'd gotten a call from the school and since he couldn't get away from work, had tried calling me, too, as well as everyone else he knew, but no one had answered his call. He'd sent me two emails asking where I was. Which brings me to the title of this here blog thingy. How the heck did people manage in the days before the cell phone and email and stuff? Seriously. My kid had to wait a whole hour and a half before I could be reached. The horror. Imagine if this scenario had played out yesterday when I was out getting the tires replaced. He'd have had to wait two hours, and that's if I'd looked at the answering machine when I got home. All sarcasm aside, I do like the communications amenities we have nowadays, and could probably do with a few more. I can hardly conceive how my mom got through my school years without an answering machine. Or how my dad's mom managed to raise nine kids without a phone. It must have been a quieter, more patient time. I'd have liked living then, aside from the whole outhouse thing, and polio and diphtheria, etc.

Although I must say that while I could easily live without a phone, I'd sure hate it if I didn't have the internets.

Teacher Workday

Last week I went down to the park sans Henry. It was a little weird because my Henry radar was still wanting to function even though he was at school. But I got my adult conversation fix for the week, so that was nice.

This morning I got Henry up and dressed and fed and went down to the bus stop. After a few minutes I noticed the bus was running slightly late and then one of the neighbors stopped by on her way to work and reminded me it was a teacher workday and the kids were out of school.

Whoops. I knew there was something I forgot to mark on the calendar. Oh, well, no biggie. We just went home and played. Since I had a slight headache and Henry wanted to play inside for a while, we skipped going to the park, but by the time we'd had lunch I was ready to head outdoors. So I packed up Henry and a snack and we went down to the state park for a hike. Henry complained at first. He wasn't interested in a long walk in the woods and was disappointed that there wasn't a playground. I gave him a park map and put him in charge of navigating our hike. I enjoyed teaching him the rules of hiking (stay on the trail) and how to use trail markers to stay on the right path. Henry led the way and made a game of a boring (in his opinion) walk. We watched "Goonies" last night and so Henry was in treasure hunting mode, what with the map and all, and decided that we were traveling through levels in the style of a video game. This tells me that Henry is fairly imaginative, and also needs to spend less time with games and more time outside (hence the hike). As we progressed deeper into the woods we encountered booby traps, had to over cross creeks hopping on the backs of alligators, some of which were real and some were fake, the fake ones being brown, the real ones green. We dodged boulders, fire balls, and ninjas. And there were moving walls. And we saw some real creatures: daddy long legs, a tiny lizard, a big shiny-black wood beetle, a dog pile of various insects devouring a dead millipede, some people and quite a few dogs.

Happiness Is...

Opening the silverware drawer and finding right on top a spoon that hasn't yet been mangled by the garbage disposal.

Ok, for all those who might be interested, I got my first phone call from Henry's teacher last week. Apparently the little angel thought it'd be hilarious to cram his mouth full of paper. When the teacher told him to spit it out in the trash, he only spat out a pittance, and got busted because he had one of his patented evil grins on his face. So the teacher's aid gave me a call to let me know Henry needs to work on his listening skills. More like obedience skills... Anyway, I got a chance to talk to Henry on the phone and so he now knows that Mommy doesn't like getting phone calls from the teacher. Not that I was overly surprised to get a phone call, or that I wasn't expecting a phone call eventually. That's one thing I kind of foresaw, and to be honest, it was a relief to get it and I actually laughed (not within hearing of the teacher, of course) because I know Henry so well. He's such a good kid and a good learner, but it's so hard for him to reign himself in when he's not supposed to be silly. So Yesterday we spent just about all night playing Simon Says and Henry started getting pretty good by the end, even if I was sneaky and tricked him a few times.

Maggie Ties the Knot

Maggie and Avdo got married last weekend. It was kind of on short notice, so everybody pitched in to make it a nice event. Either from desperation or extreme confidence in my skills, Maggie entrusted me with the construction of the bouquet and boutonnieres. This happened the day of the wedding, a few hours beforehand, to be precise. Of course she had plenty of confidence in my skills, though she nixed my original flower arrangement, and Mom helped me with the boutonnieres (lucky for Maggie Mom had some floral tape stashed away or, while probably being functional, they'd have been real ugly). Thank goodness Maggie had a cake made, because if I'd been in charge of that... Well, let's just be thankful and try not to imagine the horror that might have been.

Newlyweds:


In-laws:


Cutting the cake:


And just because I like the expression on Henry's face:

For Those Who Asked

Here's a photo of Henry in his nerd uniform. I found those suspenders in a box-- they were mine when I was Henry's age.

Happy Birthday, Daddy

Ben just turned thirty four. For his birthday, among other things, he got his stent out and a big potted plant from work. And some more renal colic. And he thinks he might have another kidney stone on deck. Yee-haw. Here's hoping next year he's in better health and better humor.

As you can see, the celebration this year was pretty low key.



Henry's been having a good week at school. I straightened things out with his teacher, so all his stuff has been relabeled "Henry." This morning at the bus stop he and the neighbor kids found a half-dead cicada in the gutter. One of them poked it with her shoe and the cicada briefly, noisily, flapped its wings, sending the kids running and screaming. It's nice to half a good laugh in the morning to wake me up.

Owen Tilley

Friday afternoon I sat on the curb and waited at Henry's bus stop for like thirty minutes for the bus to arrive. The bus finally showed up and I stood up, dusted off my butt and waited for Henry to make his exit. The first kid I saw was a very excited kid I know from Cub Scouts who very eagerly told me Henry was on his way. He told me it was a good thing Henry had a card safety pinned to his shirt with his bus stop information on it or they wouldn't have known where his stop was. That made me smile. It's really nice that Henry has four kids he knows from church riding his bus. Then Henry came to the bus door without his book bag, but one of the kids reminded him he'd forgotten his bag, so he grabbed it from a helpful friend and climbed down off the bus.

The first thing I noticed was that his little name card said Owen Tilley on it.

"Owen Tilley?" I asked Henry.

Henry smiled and matter-of-factly told me that he'd told his teacher that he wanted to be called Owen. So he went all day being called Owen at school. That made me chuckle and reminded me of my sister Beth who in Kindergarten wanted everyone to call her Liz and went all year being called Liz by everyone but her family. Well, anyway, Monday I have to take Henry's school supplies in, so I'll go set the record straight with his teacher; i.e, Henry's a cute little clown.

Today was long and busy. This morning I got up early (for a Saturday) and took Henry with me to the music leadership training meeting at church. Right after that was a primary activity. Henry and I got our picture taken and made a family banner, which I noticed after it was almost done that I'd misspelled Tilley and had to insert a little E between the more stately L and Y. After Henry decorated a journal, he then ran around with his friends. After that he had cookies and milk, actually drank the milk. In fact, he had three glasses of milk, which blew my mind because he doesn't usually like milk unless it's got Ovaltine in it. I think some of it had to do with this guy who told him milk would build up his muscles and encouraged him to drink more to see if his muscles were growing, so dutifully Henry chugged milk while flexing his arm.

After that Maggie came over and we went to Ben's grandparents to pick up some furniture. We moved two beds, two dressers, a desk and a rocking chair. All this had to go to make room for Ben's mom, who is moving in with her parents in a few weeks. Henry inherited a new bed; new for him, as the bed was his grandmother's when she was a kid (just the frame). So moving the furniture, cleaning and rearranging Henry's room, setting up the bed, and getting all the rest of the stuff organized pretty much took the rest of the afternoon. Then we had to run to the store to buy Henry some bed sheets. And now I'm tired and ready for bed. Can't wait to sleep in again, but that's not going to happen until next Saturday. Only one more week and we're back in the late shift for church, and the return of the lazy weekend. Yippy!

Another Eventful Week

I'm really glad it's Friday. Finally. Monday was so long ago I can barely remember it. Henry got to spend the night with some friends because Tuesday morning Ben had to go in for surgery to forcibly remove Junior, the recalcitrant kidney stone. We got there at five something and were finally able to go home at one p.m. Let me tell you something, never in a million years could I be a nurse. I don't cope well when people around me are suffering.

Dude behind the screen in the next bed over: Sorry I screamed.

Nurse: That's alright. You were in a lot of pain.

Ben groans.

Me: I want to go home now.

Poor Ben. He has surpassed me by far in pain experience bragging rights. Sure, I have more scars than he does, but I hope to never ever experience the kind of pain that morphine and two other analgesics won't touch. Not only did he have the whole peeing through a mangled urethra fun, he also had the much worse pain of his body mistaking the stent the doctor installed to help him heal for a huge kidney stone and going nuts trying to squeeze it out. Happily he's feeling slightly better now and is scheduled to have the stent removed on Wednesday. Then he'll hopefully feel a lot better.

On a much happier note, Henry started school today. We waited down at the bus stop together and after five minutes or so Henry became irritated because the bus was taking too long. But pretty soon afterward it came and he hopped aboard without any trepidation. Now I'm not quite sure what to do. I've already mowed the lawn. There's still a little laundry to fold, but I'm not that desperate. It just feels weird because I haven't been repeatedly nagged to look at something, or to play, or to build something out of Legos. And it's quiet. I can't believe I have three more hours of this. I suddenly have the urge to remodel the bathrooms. This can't be good.

I Hate Monopoly

For years now there's been a Star Wars Edition Monopoly set collecting dust on the shelf in the guest room closet. I think my sister bought it at least a decade ago and gave it to me maybe six years ago because she never used it. Guess what? We never used it either. Yesterday Henry noticed it for the first time and asked to play. I had to read the rule book because it's been probably twenty years since I last played Monopoly, and I'm not sure I even knew the rules then. Basically since Henry's only five and doesn't have a firm grasp on money and consequences, I had to do everything for him except roll the dice and advance his little Luke/Darth Vader/Emperor (He kept changing his mind about which one he wanted). We played for about an hour during which time Henry thoroughly trounced my butt. Finally I called an end to the game because I was sick of playing (losing). This morning before book club met at our house we played again for about an hour, and yes, Henry schooled me again. Then he wanted to play again this afternoon. We played for two hours. I landed in jail at least four times. I went straight to the $200 tax square three separate times after passing Go. Henry finally got a spaceport on Lars' Homestead and wouldn't you know it, I landed on that freaking spot twice, completely cleaning me out.

At least Henry had fun. Die, Monopoly, die!

Morning Fun

Today our morning trip to the park was cut short. Henry was having a fun time with some kids on the merry-go-round, having imaginary trips to Mars, etc. Soon all the kids were joking about throwing up, touting their three, four and five-year-old acting skills, making barfing sounds as they spun around and around, which was disgustingly hilarious until one little kid puked for real. That was the cue for the end of the merry-go-rounding, and some of us grownups decided to duck out early, myself included. Unfortunately, Henry was almost out of the park when he lost his breakfast, thoroughly. It was one of those moments when all you can do is watch and wait for it to be over, then share a laugh with the other mom whose kid puked, and hope for the sake of the other parents that their kids don't puke in the car on the way home.

The only thing missing was a fat kid and a pie eating contest.

My Sensitive Boy

So Henry's one of those kids who pretty much wants to run around being funny and having fun all the time. This personality type tends to interfere somewhat with the whole you have to be reverent at church thing, so Henry and I have worked out a rewards system to hopefully find a happy middle ground. When he's good at church he earns a star sticker; three stickers (three "good" sundays) earn him a treat, ten will get him a used video game. Since the advent of the sticker policy, he's only missed out on one star and tomorrow I'm taking him to pick out a treat.

Today Henry was pretty good. I stopped to chat with his teacher to see how he fared. Apparently Henry was really glad to have his teachers back (She and her husband have been on an extended summer vacation). She told me he behaved well, but had a brief emotional breakdown towards the end of class and told her he really loved her a lot. This made me laugh, in an amused, isn't-that-sweet kind of way. So on the way home in the car I asked him why he'd cried in class. He got a little teary and said that he was so glad that his teacher was back and didn't want her to go away again.

Aww, what a sweet kid. I think it's hilarious though, that he didn't even remember her name.

Ten Years

This past weekend Ben and I celebrated our anniversary. We were married ten years ago in the Washington, D.C. temple. No, writing that didn't make me feel old. But realizing that I was sealed there with my parents and sisters almost twenty nine years ago sure does. So Ben and I decided it was time to head back up to D.C. and check things out, seeing how it's been a few years. We made it a family thing, brought Henry along and drove up with my parents. Henry's main ambition was to ride on the metro. He's a huge fan of trains and was thrilled at the idea of a train that goes underground. Thursday we spent the morning driving up there and stopped by the temple visitor center to stretch our legs and show Henry around. It's just as beautiful as I remembered.


After we checked into our hotel we went for a walk and Henry insisted on seeing the metro, so we walked down and let him look around. Satisfied that he'd definitely get to ride it a lot the next day, we went back up and went for a walk and dinner.

The next morning we took the metro to Union Station and Henry loved the heck out of that. After breakfast we toured the mall and most of the museums.


Henry especially liked the armor exhibit at one of the art galleries (can't remember which one it was).


Henry also liked it when we stopped to rest a bit.


He also liked helping his mom burn off some blubber.


We walked from the capitol building to the Lincoln memorial. Instead of turning back around we decided to ride the metro back from the stop at Arlington, so we walked across the bridge to get there. Were were all very tired at this point.

I pointed to the big white house on the hill in the distance and asked Henry if he wanted to walk up and see it.

"No!"


We had a nice long ride back to the hotel and Henry got to hang out with Grandma and Papaw while Ben and I went back to the temple. It was very nice. Ben even got all romantic and stuff and took me to where he slipped my wedding band on my finger those many years before. Then we had a nice romantic dinner at Burger King because everywhere else was closed. Yeah, who am I kidding? This is Ben we're talking about; he's lucky I'm the kind of person who couldn't care less about fancy dining. I've said it before and I'll say it again, we were made for each other.

The next day we parted ways with Mom and Dad so they could visit the Holocaust museum, and Ben and I took Henry to the National Zoo. It's not as big or long a walk as our zoo in Asheboro, but after all the walking we did the day before, we were pretty much tired before we even started. But it was fun. Somehow after complaining about being too tired to walk, Henry miraculously recovered enough energy to run amok in the Think Tank building. Then to his infinite joy we ate at McDonalds and then rode the metro again. The kid loves the metro.


We paid one last visit to the temple before heading home.


Tomorrow I'm driving to the park.

Henry Learns to Swim

I'm happy to report that Henry can now dog paddle across the pool.

So Ben's Been Getting Back into Shape...

...Which started with him resuming him running the greenway, which he abandoned sometime last year, either when it got too hot or cold, I forget which. He's been at it for about a month and lost about a micrometer of his chubba-chubba (as Henry calls it) and now has to scale back a bit. Monday he went to work as usual and called me to report he was having severe abdominal pain and was throwing up. I offered to come pick him up and take him to the doctor, but he decided to wait it out; manliness and pecuniary issues always make him reluctant to see a doctor. He came home feeling fine, so he chalked it up to a virus. Then at four thirty a.m., he was up with the same pain, so I drove him to a walk in clinic as soon as it opened. From information he found perusing the internet Ben figured he had a kidney stone, but after two and a half hours at the doctor's office (Henry's patience was wearing thin after hour number two), the doctor couldn't say for sure and referred him to a general practitioner. So Ben set up an appointment with somebody, but then the next morning he was hurting again, so we went to the emergency room. I got Henry up (it was way too early to call a neighbor to watch him), and got him dressed and supplied with a fluffy blanket so he could go back to sleep in the car if he wanted. Luckily we live right down the road from the local hospital and the emergency room was all but deserted. Henry and I snuggled under the blanket in the waiting room while Ben had a cat scan. The sun was just starting to rise and Henry asked, "Is it almost morning?" It was a little after six, so I said yes. Anything earlier than that is most definitely not morning. A few minutes later we were hanging out with Ben in his little exam room and the doctor confirmed that it was a kidney stone. We were relieved that it wasn't something worse, but still glum. Poor Ben. Now he thinks he can lord it over me for sympathy because kidney stone pain is comparable to childbirth pain. I just reminded him that I wasn't crazy; when I was in labor I took all the pain meds they threw at me. So now he's waiting for Junior to work his way out of his kidney and emerge gloriously from his urethra. Wheeeee!!!!

Since Ben was feeling okay and supplied with pain medication and was working from home, I took Henry with me to Maggie's place so we could do the grandkid photo we'd been planning. Korah, Wolfe, Zejda and Maddox were there along with Wesley and all the kids had fun for a few hours before we fixed lunch and herded them to the portrait place. We chose this particular franchise because the one where I live has always impressed me. The folks at the location in Greensboro, however, failed to make the slightest positive impression, which is saying something since I usually don't care one way or another about how people run their businesses as long as they get the job done. I could complain about how the computers where customers pick out their portraits were occupied by chicks playing games and checking their email while we waited for the photographer, but since I'd probably have done the same thing (albeit I'd have gotten off the minute a customer walked in) I can't complain too much. We explained what we wanted, a group shot of the kids, but the photographer insisted that she had to take individual shots of the kids. I know it's because they want us to see a nice individual shot and be tempted to buy it, but still, as I explained, we didn't have time to waste for something we didn't want. I thought about asking her about the huge family reunion photo on the wall, "You mean to tell me that you made forty people sit through individual shots just so you could give them what they asked for in the first place?" The photoshoot or whatever you call it, didn't go well. All I can say is that the chick deserved it. Maybe if she'd gotten one of her coworkers to assist her Wesley might smiled in more than one shot. She probably took fifty shots and only ten of them were of what we wanted, and of those ten only one was acceptable, but not with the background we wanted. We made her skip over all the individual shots, only taking time to laugh at the ones where the kids looked silly (I might've bought the one with Wolfe winking like a complete goofball if I weren't so annoyed at the chick). So after that I bought a box of ice cream for the kids and we visited a pet store to kill time, then we stopped by to visit my mom at work before Henry and I drove home. Good thing we made that stopover, because it forced me to take a back way home, thereby avoiding I-40 and the huge wreck in Durham I would've either been in or been delayed by. All in all, a crazy day.

Last night Ben heard something rooting through the trashcan. I'd heard it before, and have picked up trash from some creature dumpster diving for spoiled meat, so I was interested to see the culprit. I turned on the porch light and went back to the window.

I told Ben there was something in the trashcan.

"How do you know?"

"The lid's up."

Then I told him, "It's a raccoon."

"How do you know?"

"He's looking right at me."

The raccoon was staring insolently at me from his perch on the lip of the trashcan, and I ran off to get the camera. Of course, by the time I got back he'd already hopped down and moseyed on to raid the neighbors' garbage. I guess I'll have to get a bungee to secure the lid.