My mother grew these HUGE pumpkins this year in her garden. When I say huge, I am talking possible state fair huge. I am really quite proud of her, because I have tried to grow pumpkins, and it is almost impossible .... they are persnickity little buggers that require lots of love ... love I'm not willing to offer produce. Mom lives in Utah, and managed to talk my Uncle (who lives in Colorado Springs and was visiting Utah) to transport one of the enormous pumpkins to our house on his trip back to Colorado (he goes through our town in CO). SO, the pumpkin arrives sometime end of September. Jon and I managed to get it heaved onto the front porch and sitting on a sort of table thing that now has 4 legs that are sort of bowing beneath the enormous pumpkin weight, but I reasoned if the pumpkin was off the ground, it would not rot (at least as fast). Jon was later diagnosed with a hernia (not kidding). SO, the pumpkin received ooohs and aaahs over the Halloween holiday, no we did not atttempt to carve it, it's three times the size of my 20 month-old and in my opinion I think there is something sacreligious about breaking out power tools to carve a pumpkin. SO, it's now November 13. The pumpkin remains, as does Jon's hernia, and I'm not real sure how we are going to dispose of the thing. My sister, Maranda, recently suggested that I offer all three of my boys a hammer and tell them to dispose of said pumpkin and "leave no trace behind". Uh.huh. I told her the following:

"Give them a hammer? Have you met my children? Wait, don't you have three of your own? Can you IMAGINE? Let me play this out for you ... I give the three of them a hammer. It would begin as a pumpkin massacre ... then Drew would wack the damned thing so hard the guts would inevitably bounce onto Bradyn, who would then call Drew a "fag" or "homo" or "stupid head" and then he would try his level best to wack drew, hammer in hand, in the "nards". Caden would be watching the whole thing go down and think that hitting must be okay since he would then be witnessing Drew fall into complete hysterics, yell something about pimps, ho's, and how he's in a gang and is going to get his ak47 and annialate (sp) his brother Bradyn. Of course, since we don't have ak47 assault rifles handy at the house, he would instead try to retaliate and hit Bradyn in the aforementioned "nards" as well. Jon would try to step in, but would be laughing to hard that they were attacking each other's nards to be much of a parental guidance to anyone. I would be screaming about giving the hammers back to me and how they were grounded for the rest of their natural lives. Caden ... well, Caden would be somewhere in the middle of the half beaten pumpkin, which I am sure is rotten as hell at this point, eating it by the mushy handful saying, "ka-ka". No, no. I think pumpkin disposal will involve Jon's work truck, possibly some day laborers, and an illegal drop off late in the night in some unsuspecting local farmers field. After all, it came from the land, back to the land. Dust to dust, right? "
Exactly how long can a giant pumpkin last before it starts to rot and smell. It seems fine now ... is it wierd to glue cotton balls on it for a beard and put a Santa hat on top of it? I think it could work for winter decor? Who needs Santa when you have a giant pumpkin to spread holiday cheer?

Bradyn is in FIRST GRADE!

This is Bradyn. He was/is SOOO cute! What cheeks! Bradyn was about a year old here ... and yes, he loved swwwt potatoes and carrots! Can you tell from his orange nose?! Yesterday at age 6, he entered first grade. There are days like yesterday when I watch my second child entering first grade that I have to hide a tear thinking about how the time flies by far to fast. My mom is always telling me time will fly ... and I am always thinking,"it better fly, or my money's on me being fully insane." Bradyn was borderline coma induced about first grade. Every time I asked if he was excited he simply said, "uh, no, not really" and I think he really didn't care. Is this normal? Since Bradyn is the second and has an older brother, he is all things cool. His school is a few blocks away and the morning was gorgeous so we decided to walk. Caden packed into his "motorcycle" (a tricycle wiht a handle I push while he stands up on it and makes "vrrrooom, vrrrommm, go, go now" sounds) and we were off. Caden chattered the whole way telling me to "go, go now" and Bradyn talked a little bit. As we got closer I figured the kid would be a little nervous, I mean this was first grade, so I offered a hand. He REFUSED! WHAT! I offered again and pointed out that the other mommies were holding their kids hands so this was okay. He again said, "Mooooom, I'm to old for that!" AUGH! He is not to old! I took a moment to contain my emotions at the fact that this poor child was the beneficiary of his elder brother's teenager wisdom. He did let me half heartedly hug him and I snuck in a kiss on the cheek that he promptly responded with, "MOOOOOOM!" Okay, it broke my heart a little. I admit it. But he was not nervous, not even a little, and he stood in the line ready to be called in by his teacher. As he entered the school I thought to myself, "goodbye my sweet little Bradyn, please let the world be kind."

Really Drew, the first day of school?

This is Drew ... about 8 years ago. He was 4 here. So cute. Such a smiler! I have to review old phots often these days ... so I don't kill Drew. Drew is now a teenager, almost 12, anf going on 30. He's ... well, read on ... so yesterday I take Drew to his first day of middle school. Now in Franklin, NH middle school started in the 5th grade, here in Colorado it is normal and starts in the 6th grade. The evening before after football practice he and his teammates looked for their names on the wall with the other kids posting his teacher, where to go to his first class, etc. His name was nowhere to be found. So he was panicked. All I could say to him was, "Drew, you know me, you know that heads will roll first thing in the morning at that middle school. Don't worry." So at the first sign of light Drew and I are out the door and in the middle school parking lot like shoppers waiting for the Kohl's early bird day after Thanksgiving sale. Anyhow, when the doors open we are ready. I march into the office and politely tell them they have their proverbial heads up their behinds and perhaps they should register my son now since I had only been to the Middle School three times over the last 3 months! Interestingly, they cannot find his paperwork ... oh, except the paperwork from the Elementary School he attended for all of three weeks with his teachers recommendation that Drew be in all honors classes. So he obviously EXISTED! We are led in to the guidance counselors office and she is profusely apologetic. I was slow to thaw, but eventual came around to her happy side of the mountain. Drew was nervous initially, but that soon changed. In the seat next to me on the other side of the guidance counselor's desk I see Drew putting both hands behind his head getting all casual. When Drew assumes this pose you always have to wonder, "God, please don't let him embarrass me, please MAKE him keep his mouth shut, even a moment of stunned dumbness would be okay!" God never listens to my pleas where my children are concerned in the embarrassment department. I think it is all about "humbling" me or some other silly thing. Anyhow, like a slow motion movie I see Drew open his mouth I am screaming inside NOOOOOOOO! Suddenly it happens, "So, how's the school lunch here because at the elementary school it was nothing to brag about." I shot him the shut the hell up look, but he didn't take the hint. The guidance counselor fortunately had dealt with his kind before and she chatted away about Dominoes Pizza coming in Monday Wednesday and Friday. Drew responds, "Oh good, because my friend told me the school tried to make their own pizza and not have dominoes come in and the school pizza was a hot mess!" Holy crap. Again, the death stare, which he doesn't seem to even notice or care about. The counselor laughed. Stop laughing silly woman, you are engaging the beast. So, she prattles on about his schedule and teachers and I asked about the gifted and talented program. She told me he would be enrolled and do I recall what specifically he was gifted in? I said a few subjects and she started talking to Drew about teachers. She said the math teacher is great and the science teacher is allot of fun ... and before the woman could finish Drew states, "oh good, I'm glad the science teacher is fun because when I lived in New Hampshire my science teacher, Ms. Norwood, was, well let's just say she had difficulty interacting with her students." Kill me now or let my crawl under a chair. The guidance counselor started to tell Drew he had nothing to worry about and Drew says, "yeah, she was a piece of work, she got all bent out of shape if you were silent reading in her class and it wasn't a science book ..." I finally intervened and cut him off and out loud said, "Drew, time to CLAMP IT!" He looks right at me and says, "what? she was! You know she was!" I responded, "Drew, new state, new school, new teachers. Ms Norwood didn't transfer with you so no worries, okay?" I said this with a bit of an undertone of the death tone. You know, the one where your lips don't move in church as you are telling your kids, "when we get home so help me I am going to lock you in your room and feed you bread and water for three days, STOP touching you brother, NOW!" So, Drew has made an impression already. Heaven help us all.

There are two requirements that face our children from conception ... they must be male, (as is evident from the obvious lack of any females in our little genetic codes) and they must be neurotic with at least ONE thing. Fulfilling these two obligations makes you the child of Jon and Cortney Eldridge.

I have written all to often about the neurotic behaviors of my first two children Drew (the pack leader) and Bradyn (the ultimate middle child). Let me introduce you to neurotic little genetic code #3, Caden. (See left) Notice the sheepish little grin on his face ... don't be fooled, he, like his brothers, is naughty all the way through and if you take your eyes off of him for a second, you're screwed. That wasn't a poetic way of writing, but it's the only definition, you are truly screwed if you leave this child to his own devices for more than 5 seconds.

Caden's neurotic behaviors range from a little wierd to truly absurd. Recently Caden has realized that he is an upwardly mobile creature, and no longer victim to crawling his way about town. I think the whole walking thing really took off when he spent some time outside crawling on the sidewalk with bare knees. He was fine at first, then I noticed he was doing some wierd army sort of Mowgli (think Jungle Book) monkey crawl. His feet were on the ground, and his palms were on the ground, and his rear was higher than his head. It saved his knees, but I think his palms got sore, because suddenly he was moving slowly into a more upward position, and wala! Now, he walks ... everywhere.

To most, walking is like breathing, you just do it. To Caden, walking is like ... being the most powerful superhero in the WORLD! He walks from room to room with his rounded little belly shoved forward, strutting his little toddler strut, very proud that he is now upward and now longer at level with the dog ... which has solidified Caden's place in the dog versus baby world that Caden is now the ALPHA and Caesar has jsut given up on life all together. Occasionally Caden will establish his obvious dominance over his older brothers as well. He enters a room, (okay, struts in the room in only a diaper) sticks his little arm up and finger out right at his brothers and says, "Wababatagagbaabay!!!" I have no idea what that means, but it is apparently very important judging from Caden's tone of voice. I think he is telling his brothers to bow to his obvious dominance. They don't, they laugh, and Caden leaves the room, head down, mumbling what I can loosely translate to be, "bite my ass."

Since Caden is "walking", he now also assumes everything is a sort of "riding" device. anything not nailed down is Caden's "skateboard" including my giant glass serving dish. One foot on the dish, and one foot on the ceramic tile floor, and that thing moves like a skateboard. Who knew? He has mastered the phrase, "uh-oh!"and when things truly get ridiculous with his brothers he hollers, "mamamammamamaaaaaaa!" Already tattling. Great. His worst trait, he bites. But he's not a mean biter and he never does it in retaliation or as a cage fighting maneuver, he does it because he "loves you". But, have you ever had your inner thigh clenched down on by the chompers of a 15 month old who thinks he is "loving you" as your cooking dinner? It's a sort of burning, seething pain that makes you think two things, "if I have enough loose thigh skin down there that the kid can chomp down, it's time for some more squats at the gym, don't yell, don't flinch, he thinks he's loving you!"

Caden's favorite toys are "little people". He got a truckload of "little people" and accessories for his birthday from Kristin and Ryan, Mark Sr. Jr. and Donna Magoon. I would like to thank them for the little people. I would like to thank them at 3 a.m. when I wake up to go to the bathroom and step on an ill placed "little people" and/or prop for the little people. Little people now cover my house ... and if I ever "lose" Caden, I just follow the trail of "little people", it's like breadcrumbs, and at the end there is always a Caden.

But, my all time favorite neurotic behavior of Caden's is his love of all things "soft and snuggly". He loves his "boon" from his Grandma Fish ... but I am afraid as of late the "boon" has taken a back seat to a new love ... Mommy's silk pajama bottoms. Caden stole them from my dresser drawer one night, wrapped them around his head, and proceeded to strut around grinning and then fell to the floor and "nuzzled" his head into my pajama bottoms. Since he's the third child and we don't question, but rather honor all things neurotic our children do, we went ahead and let him sleep with the said pajama bottoms. That was 3 weeks ago. He still sleeps with the pajama bottoms ... my little sister Kati said her husband was worried about their little one "suffocating" because when he sleeps he buries his head in his "boon" ... I told my sister that Caden sleeps with pajama legs wrapped around his neck, and he's okay, so Juan should simmer down, Emerson will be fine. Hey, my pajama bottoms, they are soft, I sort of miss wearing them!

There is more, so much more, but I just saw a "little people" whiz past my head ... which means Caden is soon to follow. Again, thanks for the little people Gelinas and Magoon families! = )

Boys Graduate School in Colorado

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

FAMILY UPDATE

This was originally a response e-mail to my baby brother about some school pictures I had sent of the kids. I will attach photos later, so this makes sense, but for now, here's an update.

Hahahah! Oh yes, Bradyn. Captain social. He, "LUUUUUUUUBS KINDERGARTEN!!!!". He informed me Thursday evening that he needed a quarter for Friday because they were having popcorn. SO, I give him 2 quarters and I say, "here's one for you and one for a friend if they forget their quarter." I always send two or three of everything to the kids' school because inevitably there are ALWAYS kids without so a few parents take up the slack. SO, when he came home from school I asked him if he was able to share his other quarter and he said, "yep, I gave it to Riley," and grinned. Okay, Riley is not a boy. She is this gorgeous little blonde creature who ALSO went ot preschool with Bradyn. I don't know her as well, but she looks like a supermodel at 5. Bradyn then asked me WHEN it would be Friday again because in kindergarten Friday is "Popcorn Friday" and that means he gets to munch popcorn AND watch a movie during snack time. His two most favortie things in the world! Hahaha! So, Kindergarten pretty much rocks for Bradyn.
Those are two girls from his Preschool class a year ago. The one wearing pink with the "demure" look on her face is Ellie (shorter one). She will one day be my daughter-in-law so go ahead and get to know her face now. I have already informed her mother that Ellie and Bradyn will make beautiful grandbabies for us ... And Ellie is the youngest of three, with two older brothers she frequently beats the hell out of. She is a spirtfire and I know she can keep my Bradyn in line as any good woman should. Most important, she loves me and hugs me whenever I see her. So I know I will have one daughter in law I like. Drew's current girlfriend is growing one me. Like Drew, she is quirky and a little strange, but she is incredibly intelligent and actually enjoyable to talk to. She'll be the griflriend I have always predicted he will bring home ... The one from Harvard with a black turtleneck on drinking coffee like it is going out of style and secretly exchanging glances with Drew to inform him of how insiginificant his familt is in scholarly circles. Fortunately, I will have my sister-in-law Sarah to talk about who will be some world renowned psychologist by that time, who has discovered her own personal psychological theory that everyone in academic circles will be buzzing about. Yep, I can say, "oh yeah Drew's snotty girlfriend, THAT is my SISTER!" hahah!
Drew loves middle school. He has decided that is fits his academic and social needs much better than elementary school ever could. His favorite part so far is that he has his own locker. Uh-huh. I asked if he wanted crap for his locker to decorate it (because that is what I did when I was in school!)and he sort of looked at me like I was some damned fool. I forget he is a boy some days and that what was cool for me as an 11 year-old girl is not so cool for him as a boy. His first school dance is at the end of October (think really, really, really, sad junior high stomp and you will get the picture). Of course, since we are not in Utah everyone thinks they have to have a date to take to the really sad junior high stomp. Drew told us he wanted to take Jacquie. Current girlfriend. Jon and I both stared at him and I stated the obvious, "Drew, that's sort of like a date and you know the rule, we don't date until we are 16 and you can actually DRIVE your date." He said, "uh, mom, no, everyone is asking someone." I said, "uh Drew, no, you aren't everyone." (As I thought to myself, holy crap, I sound like my parents.)Jon then stated the SUPER obvious, "Drew, how are you going to get there? Are you going to put some pegs on the back of your bike so you can have Jacquie stand on the back?" Then Jon started laughing hysterically. Jon is an idiot when it comes to these tender parenting moments where I am trying deperately to state to Drew the obvious reasons why dating is stupid before you are 16, ie:driving the date and not having your parents drive you. Drew, frustrated, replied with something that threw Jon into such fits of laughter he almost drive off of the road. A little background. Drew's lady friend, Jacquie, has a special talent. She rides a unicycle. Now, I have to admit, there must be some school in the ability to ride a unicycle and I am quite amazed that she possesses the abdominal strength to center herself on that thing and stay moviing in a forward motion without falling over. She has to have abs of steel for sure. At any rate, Jacquie, aka Pippi Longstocking, also doesn't give a damn what anyone thinks about her in the cruel, cruel, world we know as middle school. SO, she rides this unicycle from her house to the schoo (and has been for over a year now) despite some of the obvious jeers and jabs from her fellow classmates about the unicycle girl. Some of the boys have tried to ride her unicycle, with no success, and have therefore deemed it "stupid" like anything else an adolescent male cannot conquer it is then deemed, "stupid" and if you can conquer it you are also "stupid". So, Jacquie and her "stupid" unicycle. Drew PROCLAIMS to Jon, "NO!!!! Jacquie has her unicycle and I have my bike so I don't have to put pegs on my bike and "peg her" (terminology for having someone riding standing on the pegs on your back wheel of your bike), she can ride her unicycle! I know, I know. As Jon was almost driving off the road laughing I to burst into tearful laughter. Drew realized the "stupidity" of his own comeback and even he had to smile despite himself. I reiterated, "see Drew, that's why we don't date until we are 16. Can you imagine pulling up to the dance on your bmx bike with Jaquie in tow on her unicycle? I guess you could share a bike lock for ultimate romance?" Oh Drew.
Drew has become victim to fashion divadom and is rather insistent on two things. One item of his clothing has to be sporting some obvious name brand that everyone can see(Aeropostale, Abercrombie, American Eagle, etc.)so that whatever he has paired his ensemble with will cancel out the fact that his jeans, shirt, socks. Whatever, are secretly from Walmart, Target, or JCPenney's. Oh, this and his hair has to be "tipped" dyed blonde and messy spiked like an Abercrombie model. I have mastered tipping the hairs at home as well as the cut so we can save money on the little divas getting their hair done professionally at the salon. Bradyn also demands the same updo. It works pretty good. I shave Caesar's butt with the clippers, then I shave the kids heads, then I use one bottle of dye to tip both their heads and put a few streaks in my own hair all in the same day. Caesar, however, does not yet get his hair "tipped and dyed". That would require another box of hair dye.
Caden loves his Nanny. She's 52, has red and gray hair, sounds like a high pitched sing-song cartoon character, frequently wears clothes sporting any and all Disney characters, and she watches Sesame Street with Caden and congratulates him when he poops, farts, or burbs. According to "my Donna" (the name we have given the nanny, Donna, since Bradyn has adoptd her as his very own and gets very upset when anyone else is here with the two of them (ie: Bradyn was home from school one day and Caden was pissed he had to share "my Donna". He was "off" all morning. The next day Bradyn was back to school and Caden was back to himself. Little Turd. So, we now call Donna, "my Donna" for Caden alone., Caden's favorite character on Sesame Street is a toss up between Elmo (Drew's favorite when he was a baby!) or some pink fairy that comes on occasionally and is "new" from when her kids (now in high school) watched Sesame Street, so "my Donna" isn't quite sure who the pink fairy is called, but apparently whenever the fairy comes flying in Caden freaks out and squeels. "My Donna" feeds Caden on demand and I think he might be looking into baby weight watchers before long. She is amazed at how much he eats, and Jon is already telling me he is worried Caden doesn't have the natural switch in his brain to tell him to stop eating! Hahahah! Wrong, he's burning calories like a mad man constantly moving ... He is strong as a freaking ox and almost crawling. I can't believe it. I sit him somewhere on the floor and come back and he is across the room either from scooting or rolling. AUGH! He's almost on the move! He has also discovered that Caesar's tail is a nice fluffy thing you can take a handful of and not let go. Caesar, fortunately, has lost his will to fight anymore and complies well with his new playmates abusive play style.
Jon is mourning the loss of his great Tom Brady to a first quarter, first game of the year, season ending ACL injury. How sports enthused did I just sound in that last sentence? I almost sounded like I knew what I was talking about! = ) I'm running for our local town school board, and elections are Ocotober 7th. Gooooooo Eldridge. I have the backing of the school board president, etc. and only one person I am running against. I am pimping out the kids to wear bumper stickers on their backpacks saying, "Vote for my Mom", etc. Wait for election day, I will eb the one with my WHOLE family, dog included, outside of the polls meeting and greeting in GOOOOOOO Eldridge t-shirts or something. There is a public forum on the 29th September and I am on the docket for that. Not sure WHAT that entails, but I think it is say a few words and answer a few questions. I am acutally looking forward to it and hope the campaign is successful. Our little town is failry economically challenged in a lot of areas, but it has a lot of revitilzation potential, and I would love to be able to be on the school board and make sure the kids in this town are getting every educational advantage possible. Wait and see.
Jon and I (how weird is that?) are still working for the same company. Jon still thinks he is my boss although we work for completely different divisions. My boss had to inform him that he was indeed NOT my boss and if he decided to jump ship and come to our division she would not hire him because I already worked there and had seniority in that division. Jon still says he's my boss ... An a multi billion dollar worldwide company with multiple divisions ... He's still my boss. Fool. I like the new job, it's interesting and entertaining. For those of you that don't know, I am the new wekk paid babysitter of 120+ engineers on the east coast and southern states. I am essentially like the den mother who manages play time which for them is work time. I make sure they use their purchase cards correctly, keep their finances in order, don't tick off the clients, actually work and stay on task, and then I solve their PDA problems which somehow occur multiple times a day. It requires dealing with millions of dollars and math. IT scares the shit out of Jon that his company (remember, he thinks he is my boss) trusts my math and their money. But, the computer (Excel)is pretty idiot proof and I don't have to use algebra (even though my teachers always told me when I had a job one day when I was an adult algebra would be required ... Liars.)I work from home, the epicenter of babysitting operations, which works well for me. I am set up with a laptop, to many programs to count on the computer, various expensive office type things like copiers, files, etc. From my office I can literally track my little darling's if I so desire (a really cool little function)to make sure they are working and not at home in their parents basment talking to babes on the computer. My new gig has proven to be much like parenting three boys. Sometimes I have to scold them and tell them their communication and work ethic is about two notches above that of a baboon. Notice I didn't say a rheese monkey, the one's that can do sign language? No, rheese monkey's are smarter than most of them. I said, baboon.
Engineers are an interesting bunch. They are very analytical, which you know I am obviously not, and we have to find a groove somewhere in between their lack of personality and my sarcastic overabundance. For instance, some have called me on occasion and they always start the conversation the same way, "uh, Cortney, I screwed up when I was entering materials into my PDA, I think it is all messed up now." On days I am feeling rather sarcastic, most days, I will sit there in silence for a moment (judging the timing of that moment is critical, wait to long and I have an engineer on the phone panicking going, "Cortney, Cortney, are you still there?!?!), then I will say, "I'm sorry. You're fired." Again, there is that awkward moment of silence where you have to wait just the right amount of time before you come back with, "Relax, I'm kidding!" BUT, if you wait longer than a millisecond longer than the precise amount of time for that "moment" you have a panicked engineer sputtering, "well, uh, it's this PDA, I don't get it and noone else does either and ..." It is then that I have to talk them off the ledge and explain the fine art of sarcasm to them and that they are NOT fired and we can get through this PDA disaster one step at a time. AUGH! A few of my engineers call me ... daily. I wasn't really sure why for the first week or so. They never seemed to have life threatening or relevant questions ... It was then that I realized they were lonely and using me as either a pseudo cyberspace girlfriend, counselor, or medical doctor. Oh yes, I have solved such ailments as, "my stomache hurts today, I think it is what I ate last night" followed by a 30 minute explanation about Stouffer's mini pizzas and how to "doctor them up just right with extra cheese and peppers", but "do you think hot sauce goes bad after it has been in your friedge for over a year" because "I used that on my pizza to and I think it made me sick". My response? "General rule of thumb, clean your fridge once a month. That's gross you have seomthing in there that is over a year old! You must be single, right?" This was met with a chuckle and a, "uh, yeah, how did you know ... So do you think the hot sauce was bad?" My response, "yes, it was bad, take a tums, drink some water, quit eating stouffers mini pizzas you doctor up yourself with refrigerator remnants over a year old."
Then there was the, "Cortney, I fired an engineer yesterday and this morning one quit!" "Um, okay." This segued into, "and you know what ... I can't believe the one quit this morning because I have known him for over ten years and there was no explanation no warning no 2 weeks (this is where I think I hear a little emotion welling up with a sniffle from the chief engineer of the southeastern division)." It was as if his girlfriend/wife had left him without warning. I spent the next hour and a half, not kidding, talking this guy through the firing and quitting of his two employees and how it was not his fault, he was a good boss, and there were lots of other engineers out there that needed a job and he would find two that would be perfect for his team. Can you imagine this conversation for one and one half hours. This was crisis intervention and thank the Maker I have a psychology background so I could use big words like, "self-esteem, coping, concerned, and "I" messages (I understand, I feel like, I am hearing, you know the drill)" The other day I received an e-mail stating an engineer was "no longer with the company" and his PDA would probably not be able to be "recycled" because it was in pieces. I read between the lines and just imagined an engineer reaching his wits end and threatening a small group of innocent bystanders as he threw his PDA to the ground and stomped on it repeatedly yelling out words not fit for retype. I don't know if this is what happened, but my imagination has told me that is what happened. Why the hell else is his PDA in pieces?
I have had to "break up" with two of my engineers. They know I'm married, they know I have kids, they have no idea what I look like, but they still started to cross the "weird" line. Ie: one called me from home at night, left me some message about calling him and did I know this was his home number he was calling me from and I furhter did I know I could call him ANYTIME and it didn't have to be about work? What the hell? The next day he called me in the a.m. (of course he did) and I said, "um, yeah, got your message, did you need something in particular?" He responded with, "no, but did you get that I was calling you from home, did you see my home number, did you know you can call me at home even if it's not about work, okay?" My jaw hit the ground as I imagined some lonely little fellow that lived in his parents basement calling me and leaving me a message on his speaker phone trying to act like a cool dude while his other 40-something fellow basement dwellers listened in. I tried to be kind given this image I had concocted in my head. "Um, you know I'm married, right?" Uh, yeah, I know that. "Uh, you know I have three, count them, THREE kids, right?" Um, yeah, I was just saying you know if you ever ... I finally had to just let him think his advances were not unwarranted and I said, "oh, so and so, you don't even know what I look like, what if I am a 600 lb cookie eating greasy red head?" He laughed and said, "Oh, Cortney, you're so funny. I am so glad you work here. You make our days brighter." Crap. I finally said, "oh so and so, I am so happy I can make your day brighter, but please know that I will never, ever call you at home because company policy prevents me from calling people at home ... Ever... Under any circumstance ... And I have three kids to feed, so I have to follow policy." I think it shut him down. Then I had a chief engineer call me and ask exactly "what" I had said to so "intrigue" his engineer that the engineer called to let his chief know he would be "driving to New Hampshire" tht evening to "meet Cortney in person". I recalled the conversation and thought, good hell. I think I told him to have a good day and maybe laughed at his stellar attempt at humor, not sure. Apparently I so beguiled him that he thought an in person visit was in order. I informed his chief that my husband was a large and jealous man who also worked for the company and was at the proverbial "top" of the company food chain and he would probably not appreciate some random engineer showing up on my doorstep to meet me in person ... Even if it was innocent enough. The engineer gave me a nervous laugh and said, "uh, okay, but I can't proimise anything with this one." What!?!?!? Fortunately, the New Hampshire roadtrip was cancelled and this engineer has limited our liasons to phone calls. I think we have to break up this week. He calls to often and I have to much work to do. My favortie part is when I END the conversation with them and I say, "well, I better let you go, my inbox is larger than my outbox, you have a good day!" and then there is this awkward silence where they start to stammer like a teenage boy and say, "uh, yeah, uh, I was just saying, uh yeah, I gotta get going to, I got a lot of work, but you know that!" Honestly.
So, I serve as counselor, den mother, doctor, financial analyst, computer specialist, and pseudo cyber-girlfriend for all the 40 somethings living in their parent's basement with the sweet shag carpeting and a speaker phone they share with friends to hear my voice. Uck. BUT, there is also a majority of engineers who serve as big brothers or father figures to me. They ask if the other engineers are "talking nice" to me and "acting like gentleman" and to "let them know" if anyone steps out of line and they will "take care of it". Some are grandpa types that ask about my boys, their ages, and if I got them all successfully off to school that morning and still kept my sanity intact. And some know my husband works in the upper eschalons of the company, even though I repeat it is a DIFFERENT division, and they kiss my butt thinking he can get them an interview with corporate if they are nice to me. My boss told me one thing when she hired me, "Cortney, you will never be bored." She was right.
That's about it for now. I have written far to much because it has been far to long. I sort of miss my old friend, the computer/counselor to vent my feelings to and throw out there into cyberspace. Haha!

Football ... week two.

All I have to say … he’s STILL alive and I stayed in my chair. Alright, Drew successfully made it through day one WITH PADS. We are taking his new football playing in milestones. As in, he GOT THROUGH week 1 conditioning, he is still alive after day one with pads, he still wants to play after day two with pads… at least he doesn’t mind taking Motrin like a “big boy” … and “well, the bruising HAS to go away eventually, right?”. Drew still claims he “loves it”. I am stunned, amazed, and at the same time very happy. It’s good to see my “no contact” little boy suddenly in the throng of crushing helmets and pads and even better watching him get up, dust himself off, and go in for more. The only mistake I have made thus far is the “marble” analogy. I was trying to explain to Drew that tackling (hitting as they call it) was like marbles. If you take a marble and shoot it at a standing marble, the standing marble will shoot across the room. BUT, if both marbles are shooting at each other at the same time, they will either stop one another when they meet, or equally bang off of each other. SO, with this logic, I tried to tell Drew football is the same when he comes off the line. He needs to come off of the line FAST and with the same speed as the other kid so when they hit the other kid doesn’t have more power and can bash Drew. SO, I was thinking I was a GENIUS. Until yesterday … when Drew was participating in “West Points” (the kids bash each other two at a time), I was on the sidelines and watched Drew’s first “hit”. He didn’t seem aggressive enough to me and he sort of got his butt kicked. SO, I hollered, “Drew, lower, lower, wrap his legs!” A few more hits and Drew was doing a little better getting lower, but he still seemed a little less aggressive so I hollered, “Drew, MARBLES, MARBLES!” After practice Drew told me I needed to not yell about marbles anymore because when I did a kid standing by Drew said, “dude, is your mom talking about your balls?” Ugh. So yes, as my friend Amy indicated, Drew will probab;y need a lot of therapy for the “Pee Wee Football and Mom years”. But, for now, we’re both surviving. And yes, I have become the crazy parent that sits in the chair on the sidelines with my drink and hollers at my child telling him to hit harder and lower and cheering him on when he bashes another kid. The transformation process was pretty fast from non sports mom to sports mom the first time I heard the helmets and pads crushing. I think the mommy in me took over as well as a little adrenaline and it’s been all down hill from there. Gooooooooo Drew!

I Never Keep This Blog Current!

Due to popular demand (okay, my little sister's friend apparently spies on our blog and she told my sister I need to update my page... you KNOW who you are!), here is an UPDATE of the Eldridge clan. The "Cat" (okay, the transvestite Shitzu dog we call Caesar) is still with us, but our new "5" status is now ALL PEOPLE. Caesar is currently in discussion with our household management team to have Caden sent back to where he came from. His tactics have included vandalism(pooping in the upstairs hallway DESPITE the fact he is let out 47 times a day), stealing (all of Caden's soft stuffed toys seem to be magically disappearing from the nursry into Caesar's dog toy basket), weight gain (and not a few lbs, weight gain like he needs a program ... does Jenny Craig have a dog program?), desperate attempts at affection, (my feet are always warm, and numb, from the fat dog sitting on them every moment he can), and sniffing Caden at an attempt of acceptance into the pack. Fortunately, he still recognizes me as the Alpha of the pack and I have accepted Caden into the brood, so he must accept him as well.

Caden George Eldridge was born on March 6, 2008. Thanks to good drugs, I survived the delivery completely numb from my waist down. He was a tiny little thing, 7lbs 5 ounces, DESPITE the docotors repeated promises of a HUGE baby. Uh-huh, not so huge. A full pound less than his older brothers and sporting a normal baby head ... not the enormous watermelon heads like his brothers. Caden has already met the Governor and first lady of New Hampshire when he was 4 weeks old. I think he has an early interest in politics. haha!


The boys (Drew and Bradyn) are phenomenal big brothers. Bradyn has even shown his mastery of "carrying" Caden when I am not around. Caden has been carried, by his 5 year-old brother, up the stairs numerous times, from his bed (where he was sleeping peacefully) to the couch in the front room because he wanted to "play" acording to Bradyn. At all times, when I have caught the "helpful" 5 year-old, Caden is never crying. Despite the fact that he is literally hanging from his brothers waist head down while Bradyn carries him in a side sling sort of fashion. It's true, third babies are VERY laid back.

Drew has mastered bottle feeding, burping, and entertaining Caden. As I sit here now, he is feeding Caden on the beanbag, watching cartoons with Bradyn. All three boys, all being babysat by cartoons. Yep, I am a great mom, tell your friends for sure. Caden officially received welfare third baby status. In our family we have this theory. The first baby is always dressed cute, matching hats and shoes, etc. The second baby may not match as well, but they are dressed. The third baby wears pajamas most of the time and in the summer au natural with only a diaper AND covered in sticky popsicle or watermelon juice. Caden's clothes DO MATCH, and he has only spent a few days of pajama day (due to the enormous amount of clothes he has, every day is a fashion show!). However, the other day I had him sitting in his stroller while I was outside raking leaves. We have had an unusual warm spell here, so I was taking advantage. A few minutes into my yard work, Caden started to fuss, then cry.. I went inside, made him a bottle, and proceeded to "prop" the bottle wiht his blanket so I could try and get more work done. Caden didn't seem to care, he had food. When the bottle was gone, I noticed Caden had a bunch of milk on his face (he's a messy little eater). I didn't have burp cloth, and I didn't want to run inside the house again ... but wait, one of his socks had fallen off. I retrieved the errant sock and proceeded to wipe Caden's face with his sock. It was a moment of pure mothering genius ...again, tell your friends.

Jon is adjusting to the new little critter. He keeps telling me how perfect Caden is, and of course, like our other two boys, I have to agree! Jon does, however, terrify me with his parenting "technique" some days. He often lifts Caden by the front of his clothes like Caden is a sack of potatoes. His burping style is legendary as he maneuvers Caden's little fat body into all sorts of contortions to assist the burp in coming out. But, I have to say, he is always successful and Caden will remain limber. Jon recently hurt his back doing a bunch of yard work stuff. He has been to an orthopedist, and he's now off to physical therapy for a few weeks. It's an aggravated old military injury, so we hope it's not anything too serious. Cross your fingers for him! Despite his back injury making him walk like a hunched over old man, he is still coaching Drew's baseball team this year ... and loves it! Drew is still maintaining his "casual" style of play (aka - he could care less) and it drives Jon bonkers! But, in all, I see the occasional little smiles from Drew at being able to have his Dad as his coach.

I remain post pregnancy body and am trying to fit back into my clothes. I have to say, it sucks having a closet full of clothes that you just can't quite squeeze your butt into. I think pregnant women should emerge from the hospital with perfect bodies (whatever their perfect size is for them) as a special door prixe that God gives them for carrying the baby for 9 months and then delivering. I think that is the least we can get. Instead, I returned home puffy, 20 lbs heavier, pale as a ghost thanks to the severe anemia, tired (again, anemia), and a little grouchy from lack of sleep. Today, 6 weeks later, I am no longer anemic OR diabetic (had diabetes during the pregnancy WITH all of the fun insulin shots to the gutt!), I have visited the tanning bed a few times, my face is still a little puffy and my weight gain is falling off of me at a snail's pace, but I can see my feet and I started working out again and I start teaching aerobics next week. Let's hope my students will accept their teachers "new post baby" body. Ugh. Yes, a little crazy about it, but Caden is more than worth all of it.

I am the team mom for Bradyn's T-ball team. What aa crack up. I call Bradyn the "clutch" player. haha! The coaches are SO PATIENT and the practices resemble herding cats, but the kids are starting to see the light and get a little more oprganized. My favorite is when one kid will "lap" another kid running the bases becasue the kid on the base ahead of him is not fast enough. Yes, Bradyn has been lapped. But he's big and a little more competetive than his elder brother, so I fully expect a kid to get tackled or sat on if they keep lapping him.

Well, I better run and try to add more updates later. I have to rescue Caden from his brother's "helping" endeavors. I think they left him alone on the bean bag. He's pretty boring after all, jsut sort of sits there and occasionally sighs, sneezes, hits himself in the head with his uncontrolled hands (making him cry), or shoots a smile. More later.

Las Vegas to New Hampshire to WHAT?!?!

Dear Family and Friends,

If you have made it to our blog site, congratulations! You are now seeing the first Eldridge family Christmas letter to make it out in two years! This also means that you are the proud bearer of a Christmas card from us, also not having made it out in the last two years! We’ve been a little busy to say the least! I know it has been an anxious couple of years for all of you, not getting this annual gem of a letter, so I will try to make this worth the read.

The Eldridge’s waved goodbye to the Air Force and sunny Las Vegas approximately 2 years ago. We packed the kids and the dog into the Expedition and started our cross-country trek to New Hampshire. The dog, Caesar, is still suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder from 5 days in the car with his brothers, but the kids and I managed to maintain minimal sanity with multiple DVD’s.

Drew … oh Drew. Drew is 10 years old now …, which still makes me 21 years old. I know, amazing. Drew has rolled with the punches like any good former military brat and endured the moves, the new homes, and new schools with the best of them. We took a sigh of relief noting that this year, 4th grade for Drew, is the first time he will attend a school 2 years in a row! Drew has hit the ground running in his new school. He was voted to be both the 3rd and 4th grade President! His political ambitions seem endless, and I spend a lot of time making “campaign bribes” ordered from Oriental Trading Company every fall to hand out to his constituents. Drew loves school, his teachers, and even gym class! This year he started playing the “recorder” in the 4th grade “band”. He and his fellow “recorder” players are mastering only the hits … Hot Cross Buns. When he is not rendering the family speechless with hours of entertainment on the recorder, Drew has been involved in Baseball, Karate, Kung-Fu, swimming, camping, frog hunting, neighborhood domination, and anything computer.

Bradyn turned five this year. He has adjusted well to his new Yankee status and has even added words like, “wicked” to his vocabulary and deleted letters like “r”. I am concerned about his regional dialect, but figure he sounds like his Yankee children counterparts, so we will let it go for now. Bradyn, unlike his “academically inclined” older sibling, would rather play with friends 24 hours a day, ride his bike, or throw around any sort of ball. Our little social butterfly also participated in Karate, Kung Fu, swimming, camping, and soccer. He loved ALL of them and can’t wait for baseball little league in the spring. He is finally old enough! Bradyn spends his days at home with Mom these days waiting for kindergarten next year. He has discovered the X-Box and vying for position with his older brother. He has proven what we always warned Drew about … be nice to Bradyn, he will be bigger than you one day. Enough said. Despite his antics, Bradyn keeps us laughing with his endearing little grin, and spit and vinegar personality.

In September 2005, Jon started his new career with Jones Lang LaSalle at Fidelity Investments as a Project Manager. Did you understand that mouthful? Within 6 months, Jon was promoted to a facilities manager. A month later, he graduated from school (GOOOO Jon!) with his Bachelor’s Degree. Jon didn’t want to break the education rhythm, so he headed straight into his Executive Masters Degree program, which he will finish this summer. Jon was recruited to Aramark Corporation early this summer doing his same career. He took the job … for three months, and was “re-recruited” by Jones Lang La Salle to manage another client, Motorola. Translation of “re-recruited” – come back and we will pay you more. Jon is officially back with Jones Lang LaSalle, working with his new client, Motorola. He LOVES his job, his new “Q” phone, and that is all that matters!

In his spare time, ha-ha, Jon has coached a 12-year-old “majors” baseball team in our little town, served on the baseball little league board, and is now the church stake physical activities director. Oh, did I mention he also plays indoor soccer, hunts, fishes, camps, goes to Red Sox and Patriots games, and is generally is loving being back in “New England” so he can watch New England sports all the time … whenever he wants!

As for me, I am adjusting to the Yankee way of life. I can’t find good grits here, but I have found I am becoming quite the Maple syrup connoisseur. Until recently, I have been teaching aerobics and doing some personal training. I LOVED teaching and training, but my body, and more importantly my poor hips, gave out on me early into my pregnancy. During a class I stepped up, my hips stayed down, and thus ended my fitness career for NOW! I am still carting the kids around, started a book club, volunteering at Drew’s school, have almost finished MY school, (2 classes left, yes, both math, I may never graduate), gardening, crafting, camping & hiking, (yes, I camp and hike now, heaven help us all)etc. etc. My neighborhood has dubbed me “Bree Van decamp” (from desperate housewives fame) because I apparently am a little “obsessed” with my domestic details. Overall, I am staying busy and contented.

If you haven’t heard yet, (yeah right!) Jon and I are expecting our third in March. This was a “surprise” for both of us, but one we are finding to be a grateful gift. Caden George Eldridge (yes, ANOTHER boy), is due to make his arrival sometime in early March. So far, Caden stays busy kicking me incessantly, resting on whatever nerve is most uncomfortable for his mother, “teasing” his brothers with kicks in response to their talking, and gaining weight steadily. Jon and I are both still a little in shock, but ready or not, we are welcoming a third.

Jon and I look back on the last couple of years and remain amazed at the blessings Heavenly Father has given our family. We are happy, healthy, have amazing friends and family, and are enjoying our new adventures daily. If you are ever in New England, we have a lovely “guest suite” complete with a 6 a.m. wake up call from Bradyn (after all, Captain Social is the entertainment committee here at the house, and activities begin EARLY!). However, I can promise some warm maple syrup with your early breakfast! We love and miss all of you.

Here’s wishing all of you best wishes for the
Holidays and upcoming New Year!

Love,
The Eldridges Jon, Cortney, Bradyn, Drew, Bradyn, Caden,
and Caesar (woof!)

The "Illness", Franklin Emergency Room & I'm Still Alive ....

The latest illness at the Eldridge house has earned a name, “the illness.” The illness began with Drew … on Sunday evening … last week. He said he had a headache. We ignored him thinking he was trying to get out of school the next day. Monday morning he came in our room … early … and told us he was sick. We checked his temperature 104 degrees. Okay, so he wasn’t faking.

We spent Monday and Tuesday with “the sickness” sequestered nicely on the front couch doubling as Drew. There was hourly dosing of the Tylenol and the Motrin, etc. while “the illness” rendered Drew almost inept with a fever going no less than 102.5 degrees. Drew, through the voice of “the sickness” said, “mom, I like this couch, it molds to my body”. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it is because the couch is getting old, has seen many butts of various shapes and sizes, doubled as an Olympic gymnastics competition prop, and served as home base minus cushions (shields) for wars fighting for anything from turn to oreos. The sofa, the one that molded to his body, has sofa fatigue and we need a new one some day. For now, we keep this one and I told Drew, “honey, that’s because we bought the special “mold to your body” version.

Finally, it seemed the illness had left Drew late Tuesday evening. Wednesday morning he came bounding down the stairs, dressed and ready for school. He looked okay, so off to school he went. At about 9:30 in the school nurse called me and said, “Drew has a 101 degree temperature, can you come get him?” WHAT?!?! “The illness” had returned. So, I picked him up from school and within the hour we were back up to 103. I didn’t take him to the doctor, because ACCORDING to the school nurse, there is a NASTY virus haunting the area as of late. Apparently, it is a weird version of the flu, that is NOT defeated by the flu shot (so much for the annual flu shots!), but rather is a high fever that can last for up to a week. Yes, I know … awesome.

The germ-phobe in me, dedicated myself to fighting “the illness”. No way would this virus defeat me in my bleached, germ free zone. So, Thursday morning I scrubbed and I washed and I disinfected ALL of the house. All linens were washed, every sheet, comforter, blanket, towel, etc. If it wasn’t nailed down, it was bleached and boiled. Of course, Thursday, Drew seemed to be at the end of the illness, but the local television station announced “no school” Thursday or Friday because of the “threat”. (A kid, a computer, to much time on his hands, threats, FBI, and 2 days after the Virginia Tech massacre, you get the picture?)

Bradyn had not yet showed any signs of “the illness”as of Thursday, and Drew was camping out in the guest room, so no germ sharing. Friday morning, Drew didn’t have school, Bradyn did have preschool … but, alas, at 4 a.m. Friday morning Bradyn came into our bed with “the illness” in full force. Of course, his was accompanied by “the croup”. Uh-huh. So, we were off to the hot shower, outside for cold air to alleviate the croup, then there was the 103 temperature. That needed the Motrin/Tylenol fix.

We spent the rest of the weekend right into yesterday fighting “the illness” with Bradyn. Drew was better now, no problem. Jon seemed fine. I was fine … but oh wait, my eye had been bothering me all week. I was so busy with “the illness” I didn’t take time to address my eye issue, until about 4 p.m. Saturday night. I looked VERY closely at my eye and said, “shit”. Yep, that’s all I could muster.

In ten years I have had two “eye ulcers”, yes, ulcers. They manifest the same way, pain, a little swelling, and what looks like a little piece of cotton right on the colored part of your eye. They take about two months to heal completely. Think, open wound in the eye. If you WAIT before getting some sort of medical attention, you go blind. Simple. The last “eye ulcer” was 4 years ago. Of course, this was perfect timing for another.

So, I had to go to the local Franklin ER (which has a reputation of killing people who go in for a simple set of stitches … I am still alive). While there, I got sufficient medical attention, BUT I also had the privilege of sitting in the exam room by the “puker”. For the 2 hours I sat in my exam room, the “puker” did her thing … puked, repeatedly, And not just the puke it all out then you are done puke, oh no, this was the dry heave pukes, then moan and threaten to kill yourself and everyone in the hospital, pukes. It was, in a word, awesome.

Even more awesome than that was that a fellow franklinite and her boyfriend/son (not sure, the jury is still out on that one) came into the ER looking for “drugs”. If you wanted to categorize them medically … they were “drug seeking”. These characters feign deadly and fatal illnesses hoping for a “fix” from their local ER. Percocet, Oxcontin, anything will do. They just need a hit. The woman was feigning a headache or something, and the next thing you know they are getting all lippy with the staff of the ER and the ER attendant was threatening to call hospital security, etc...

Security was called, and the security guard came down to settle the dispute as only a hospital security guard armed with pepper spray and no real live gun can … he yelled at them and put them in an exam room, closed the door, and sat outside of their room until the Franklin PD arrived. I watched and/or heard most of this go down and thought how much I loved living in New Hampshire... Franklin esepcially. Never a dull moment.

But I am remiss, the eye ulcer was confirmed. The doctor numbed my eye with some drops, and THEN told me that the drops are very powerful and to make sure I don’t steal them when she leaves the room. (apparently this is a problem at the Franklin ER?). I guess the numbing drops are only to be used occasionally as they will melt my cornea. Yep, you guessed it, someone DID steal them once and ended up having to have a corneal transplant.

Right, got it, don’t get all sticky fingered at the Emergency Room and steal the eye drop drugs because my cornea was already beginning to melt, yet numb the pain, for now. She then put some other drops in, confirmed the familiar, “wow, that is really bad, it must be painful” diagnosis of the ulcer and then told me she didn’t have the prescription I would need there, but here was a script. Uh-huh. It was now 7:40 and I knew the local Rite Aid closed at 8. If I didn’t make it to the local Rite Aid, I would have to drive about 30 minutes to the “big city” with a numb and fully dilated eye. Something to look forward to!

The man nurse came to check me out of the exam room, while I was on the phone with Jon confirming the time the Rite Aid Pharmacy closed. In an attempt to put icing on my already humiliating, germ infested, gross out experience at the Franklin ER the man nurse says, “So, was that your husband on your cell?” I said, “yeah.” And the man nurse then proceeds to say, “Wow, your husband is a REALLY lucky man.” Uh-huh. All I could think was, “are you freaking kidding me, you are not hitting on me right now with my glasses on, my hair pulled up, and my sweat suit that makes me look like a 500 lb circus act on?” Apparently, the man nurse likes that sort of thing.

My eye hurt and my witticisms left me so I just said, “yep, he is.” and left that there. I RAN out of the ER, prescription in hand, passed the Franklin PD entering the ER (remember the lippy drug seekers?), and went straight to the Rite Aid. It was 7:57 and I begged the Pharmacist to fill my prescription. I think I looked a little “iffy” on the sane side so he complied. I went to check out. “That will be $63.00,” he says. I started laughing, looking at the 5 ml bottle of eye drops. “No seriously,“ I said, “we have insurance, really GOOD insurance, did you not apply it?” He wasn’t laughing when he said, “No, we applied it, that’s the price AFTER insurance.”

At this point, I knew I had been beaten. The illness, the cleaning escapades, the lack of real smelling ability because my sinus areas were burned with bleach. Waiting for me at home was my youngest with a 103 fever, and so I hung my head, squinted through my one good eye, handed over my visa, and said, “here.” What more could I do? I was beaten and apparently I had wrought some really bad karma on someone because it was ALL coming back this week.

I read my new $63 prescription instructions. (No, it was not in a golden container, though it should be) It was the end, the final passage of what sanity I had left. The wonderful instruction. Every hour, on the hour, one drop in the right eye. Yes, that means awake, in the night, every hour, for four days … at least.

THE NEXT DAY ...
I was referred to an eye doctor yesterday, in GILFORD (30 minutes away) and had to take both kids, (Bradyn is still sick, mind you) to the “wait in the office for 2 hours with all of the Medicaid old people patients”. Finally I was in the actual doctor’s chair, trying in vain to decipher what he was saying (he was Indian, and English is not his first language) to me, and vaguely recognized the words “blind and bad”. Uh-huh. I wasn’t blind, but apparently, I was close. Still on the drops, and back to ANOTHER eye doctor on Thursday morning because the Indian guy will be on vacation or something so I have to see his colleage, which is in LACONIA (another 40 minute drive). Again … awesome.

ALL OF THIS and wouldn’t you know it? The complaining I have been doing about the snow storms in April, waiting in vain for Spring … all last weekend was beautiful. In fact, it was 80 degrees on Monday. Yet, the corneal ulcer and the numbing corneal melting eye drops with some dilation drops and antibacterial drops blinded to the suns warm rays. Driving in the beautiful weather is really nice … except for when every 4 hours I have to use drops (along with the every hour drops) to dilate my eye. So, I drive, with one eye wincing in pain as my corneas are melting, and try to stay on the road. S

O, where does that leave me now. Well, Bradyn seems to have turned the corner with “the illness”, still a bit croupy, but alive. I am wearing my super hot make me a babe forevermore glasses (for an undetermined amount of time, which makes the vanity in me scream for mercy), my eye is throbbing, that’s about it.

Do you see where I am going with all of this? My sanity right now is definitely questionable. I have taught 2 of my four aerobics classes this week. I didn’t fall off of my step last night, so that was a plus. I was convinced with the “eye” I wouldn’t be able to judge distance even with my glasses on. So now, I sweat, (gross) and have to take the glasses off and wipe them off. UGH! Just one more thing in the land of my life. But, other than that we are doing GREAT! Bradyn has officially kicked “the illness’s” butt, taking no prisoners. Kids are on spring break all week, AND my poor bulbs DID survive the last three April noreasters (snow storms) and I saw signs of life in a little yellow daffodil yesterday. In all things I suppose it is important to not only see the humor in life, but also God’s little miracles. Okay, eyes bobbing back and forth and time for more drops.