Thaw before reheating.
Breaking news, 11am this morning:
INTERMITTENT FLUID IN BOY CHILD’S EAR CAUSES REDUCED HEARING
Afternoon addition:
PARENTS DISTRACTED BY NEW PARADE ROUTES AND DECIDE TO IGNORE CHILD’S POTENTIAL HEARING ISSUE
Evening release:
HEARING WHA? KID SEEMS FINE AFTER CRAZY ANTICS IN BATHTUB
My children will one day describe the torture we inflicted upon them during Carnival season by waiting nearly a month to buy a king cake. But we did it, officially: we have had our first King Cake. In our defense, we tried to buy one a day or two earlier, but Whole Foods had nothing but “Berry Chantilly” left and that just wasn’t happening.
On recommendation, we got one from Rouse’s.
The baby is thrown in the center these days, which is a shame, but there you have it. Will wanted the baby something terrible, even before we opened the box. He has been asking for King Cake since they made one in school… on Epiphany. Poor guy waited a long time.
I’m a bit of a local oddity in that I don’t have a favorite King Cake. Yet. I do know that I’m not into the fruit fillings. Last year, I stood in line for a Randazzo’s cake and it was good, but a bit too cinnamon roll sweet for me. Rouse’s was good, but I think I’d opt for cream cheese next time as the plain seemed like something was missing? We are open for suggestions on who to try next.
Will is especially ready for more.
The kids stood in the crowded elevator enjoying the bounce at each stop up to the 6th floor. “It feels funny, doesn’t it?” Paul asked them.
“It makes my penis feel funny!” Will exclaimed to half of New Orleans.*
And with that, we entered the pediatrician’s office.
What we know: there does not seem to be fluid in his ear, an access of ear wax interfering with “membrane movement,” or anything else in there that would displace enough air to make anyone concerned. He is scheduled for additional testing at Children’s on Wednesday. Damn. I was really hoping for a slam duck on this one… and now I’m thinking that he’s physically fine and instead has some larger, big picture issue. Like, he’s just being five. And five can just be weird. No drug treatment for this.
But while we’re on the subject of Will, I thought I’d share what I know will be his most favorite picture of all time. One that he posed for purposely and requested photographic capture:
Well, this one could be a close second.
Cold weather accessories taken out, as a rare necessity. Also necessary: modeling them.
(The glasses influenced the Photoshop actions.)
I was thinking of photos from our first year in the house, when Paul stripped the hanging doors before Katrina and re-wired the entire house. Squeaky made me think of electronics, metals, and the sounds of our old house.
Then I saw this picture of Will, mixed in with those early home-improvement days.
And I thought, “mouse,” which is most definitely a squeaky little thing.
So here’s my first born at 17 months. Back in the days when he could be called squeaky.
“Will, what do you think about us spending a few months this summer in a country where everyone speaks French?”
“I think that would be GREAT!”
“Yeah?”
“YEAH… we could go to MEXICO.”
“Mommy, can you get me something to read while I sit on the toilet?”
“You need something to read?”
“Yes.”
“Like, a magazine?”
“No. A book. Can you get the one in your bedroom that is about ducks?”
—
Before you go to snap judgments…
That Little Man, the one who wants to read about ducks while sitting on the throne, has silently endured an ear infection so bad that the pressure burst through the membrane of his ear drum and started leaking fluid out of his ear. I noticed the dried fluid when we came home from his Christmas party Friday morning and within 30 seconds, had the doctor’s office on the phone. Any thoughts on how painful it must be to have your ear filled with pussy fluid* with pressure so strong that it breaks through an organ? (Okay, so probably that membrane isn’t an organ. But wow, shouldn’t this at least be memorable in the short-term? Cause an ‘ouch,’ maybe?) I found photographic evidence of it from earlier that morning, from photos I took during the holiday party:
So, just to be clear: men who like to read about ducks on the can are tough. T-O-U-G-H.
Oh, did I mention? He wore a red flashing Rudolph nose from the party all afternoon, including through the entire trip to the doctor’s office — thoroughly mortifying the two teenage boys that he sat beside in the waiting room — and delighting everyone that saw him. You know, while his little 5-year old head was leaking pussy fluid*.
That’s my guy. Keepin’ it real.
(Last photo by Paul, who took the photo. Photo by Paul showing Will wearing the stocking on his head, taken by Paul, who took the photo. Just in case: that last photo? Paul took it. Thanks, Paul!)
* Meagan kindly noted my use of the phrase “pussy fluid” (not once, but TWICE) in this post and though it would totally be the right thing to, um, watch my phrase-ology, I just can’t bring myself to change it. I just can’t stop laughing at myself.
Will came home from school to find my sketching supplies out with evidence that I had been using them. He was curious and paused to look, then ran in the back to change clothes and work on the house with Paul — the call of power tools.
Then, 5 minutes later, he’s back inside.
“Mommy?”
“Will, dinner is going to be soon, so no snacks.”
“No, Mommy. I don’t want a snack. I want to draw.”
“What?”
“Draw. Like you.”
Behold, internets. I give you, MY SON.
What was that, you ask? That sound?
It was the sound of my heart, breaking into eight thousand pieces a hundred times over.
“What color was your day today?”
“Pink. I had a happy day today.”
“Oh? What made you feel happy today?”
“Ummm… I don’t know.”
“One of your friends at school? A game you played?”
“No. It was lunch.”
There is a very distinct chance we will not have a Christmas tree this year. And I am blaming it all on this:
The Man Palace that demanded attention and took away from the progress in the part of the house we actually live in. (No, no, no bitterness here. Just don’t get me talking about having to blow the rest of our savings on COBRA, then you’ll hear some bitterness.)
But it sure is pretty. Paul finished installing the windows this weekend and built the headers in the front of the roof. It’s ready for hardie. The sides have corrugated metal sheets along the fence(s) and then will have hardie in the areas that are open to the elements. The center section will remain open — storage will be on either side. We’ll get walls up in the center with big doors leading into each side. The center will be a patio-like space for grilling, etc. Paul really wants to put in a built-in grill here, and I admit, it would be pretty cool.
See the windows in the back? Those are to let in more natural light into the open space. Neat, huh?
Meanwhile, Will’s bed sits in the front room where our tree should go. His bed cannot be moved until the study is moved. The study cannot be moved until the floor is installed in the back. The floor can’t be installed in the back until the painting is done. The painting can’t be done until the floor is cleaned and tools put away. The tools can’t be put away until they can be locked in the outbuilding… and so, here we are.
We talked about putting up a leg lamp and decorating it, instead. Maybe the titillating joy of electric sex in our window would make us feel better? But, no, I think it would just remind me of the beautiful tree sitting safely (?) contained outside. Next to Paul’s fermenting hockey gear.
The picture above is the backroom that needs paint and flooring. I wasn’t kidding about the massive amount that needs to happen back here. All that wood? That’s SOME of the trim that still needs to be installed in the bathroom (most of the places where we could see the dirt below the house are covered, now, though.) Paul doesn’t want to put down the floor until all the trim is done. I’m pretty sure I threatened bodily harm with one of those trim pieces when he suggested this. Not that I’m feeling impatient; I maintain that I am the epitome of patience!
Here is proof.
This is some of Will’s homework from last week. Patience and great sense of humor are imperative when doing three pages of this in one evening. (Will doesn’t usually have that much homework, it’s just that Daddy missed it on the night he was suppose to do it with Will because Mommy was in a meeting. And I wonder why the kids love Daddy more?)
My favorite part of the homework is Will’s cake. I also like how Will is writing his lower case “a,” with the little curly puppy tail.
