Baby Brains Superstar

You've probably noticed from a few photos that Sam is really into music lately. It's a treat for us all. He's particularly fond of his $17.99 guitar from Fleet Farm and runs around calling for his "tar" when the mood hits him. This morning he played along while I belted out tunes from Les Miserables. This made me very happy. Obviously we're hoping he'll grow up to be a rock star, but we don't want to pigeon-hole him too early. It's hard, though, given his raw talent. See for yourself.

Turkey Week

We have agreed to host Thanksgiving. Unless this meal comes in a box, it's going to be a challenge for me. Luckily my husband is a stellar cook and I follow directions pretty well. Preparations are starting today. I'm going to remain calm and feign cheer.

Soliciting

I have to say I'm feeling pretty bummed about missing the excellent NCTE conference after hearing such glowing reports. So I'm thinking about a 2013 proposal. Who's with me next fall?

So You Want to Be a Rock Star

I'm sitting in Coffman Union at the University of Minnesota to kill some time and write a little before my dentist appointment (see what I mean about the bopping?). And I have this overwhelming sense that, in the relative scale of things, I'm OLD. The good news is that I don't feel the least bit sad or disturbed by that. It's simply an observation. I do, however, feel the urge to tell this nice kid at the table next to me to pull up his sweatpants and go to class. That's probably just the teacher in me.

Forward

I've been reading about writing rituals, and I fear that the lack of one in my life is a major problem. I bop around trying to fit in some writing at this spot and then that spot when what I really need is a cozy spot and a routine. I have this wonderful office with lots of space and a great chair, but I can write there just once a week when Sam is off on adventures with Nana. So here's the thing. I think I have to work on the writing every night. I've been trying to avoid this move because I'm generally brain dead between 8 and 10 pm each day, but it must be done. For the sake of the ritual. Let it begin.

Round Four

I hate to say it, but we're sick here again. What's the deal? Apparently Sam catches everything. He's on day six of the World's Longest Cold, and suddenly, I'm feeling achy and sore in the throat. And I'm stuffy. I didn't notice this symptom too much myself, but Dave slept in the guest room due to the snoring. I'm thinking about keeping Sam from all human contact for the remainder of the fall and winter. That's not too extreme, is it?

Malladies

A couple of weeks ago, we all had an annoying cold that lingered a bit but was ultimately overshadowed by the Great Stomach Virus of 2012. We had almost forgotten about the cold until, last Saturday, Dave started to feel a little woozy. This didn't stop him from spending the day in a frigid lake pushing and pulling to remove dock parts from the water, and on Sunday, things were worse. Dave spent a couple of extra hours in the supine position, and when he finally tried to get up, his stomach betrayed him. He felt a little better after this but had a feeling of water in his ears and extreme vertigo for the rest of the day. 

This dizzy state continued into Monday, and finally, on Tuesday, Dave saw an ENT doctor who diagnosed him with labyrinthitis. It's a real thing. Apparently, his inner ear became infected and inflamed from the cold virus. Thus, the vertigo. Dave's lucky because 50 percent of cases of labyrinthitis are associated with hearing loss, and all tests show that Dave has near perfect hearing (which came as somewhat of a surprise given the frequency with which he does not respond to my direct questions).

Dave's unlucky, though, because there's no treatment and symptoms won't subside for 8 to 10 weeks. EIGHT TO TEN WEEKS! We're talking about 8 to 10 weeks of dizziness until his brain adjusts to the new level of functionality in his ear. That's just crazy to me. 

One week has almost gone by, and I do have to say that Dave seems a little better. He doesn't throw up each morning and fell over just once yesterday. Still, I feel pretty sorry for him. So sorry that I've been addressing all of the night-time noises from the toddler. 

But, between you and me, I don't have eight more weeks of that in me. Maybe one or two. Max. 

All Hail the Chief

Sam added the ladder to the costume himself. I think it was a nice touch. You know, in case he needed to rescue someone.