Mum-Mum: “You guys! Why do I have to tell you the same thing over and over? How come every morning you make noise and I have to come in and tell you to be quiet because Sam is still sleeping? Why can’t you remember and just do it?”

Nate: “Because we just can’t! We’re widdle boys, Mum-Mum!”

We’re getting our third floor ready for human habitation. When we moved in eight years ago, this level had no heat, no AC, and no electricity. It was also home to a well-established bat colony - the largest they’d seen in 5 years, according to the Maryland Department of Natural Resources - that had had the run of the place since roughly the Hoover Administration. They used to poke their wings out under the door at night.

The bats, not the Hoover Administration.

So we evicted them, had all evidence of their 50+ year-occupancy removed via HEPA vac and bleach, installed AC and heating, installed storm windows, and wired the place up to code.

Oh, and we also had water leaks. And when I say ‘water leaks’, I mean the water was coming through the roof, through the attic, through the third floor, and into my desk chair on the second floor. Inconvenient. So we had all those dealt with also. However, coupled with the bats (and earlier futile attempts to deal with the bats), they had done some long-term damage to the plaster and lathing, mostly in the ceilings throughout the level. The original wallpaper was tattered and hanging in places like bandages from a mummy.

We decided to start with one of the rooms that was in the best shape, and turn it into a workout room. Originally, we were just going to clean everything really well. But one thing led to another, and before you could say ‘Random Orbital Floor Sander’, we were renting shit from Home Depot that required two people to carry to the car.

It also turned out that, like everything else with this house, she wasn’t going to let us off easy. We discovered that there was lead paint on the floor, so we had to dress Jill up like Dexter and hermetically seal her into the room with all the equipment before she could start sanding.

“Buhbee, put your hand up against the plastic so I can take a picture of it.”

While we were at it, we decided to get the center hallway knocked out too. More to follow when we’re actually finished with the painting and putting polyurethane on the floors. Until then, click below to see all the pictures to date.

front

back

The front of the card this year was all taken in one shot - there was no Photoshopping necessary other than for the border and the text. In years past, I’ve had to take the best elements from several pics and combine them all into one shot. This time, after the turkeys were wrapped up and trundled off into the front yard, all that Jill had to do was stand behind me and yell over my shoulder, “Hey boys, you know what we’re having for dinner tonight? Spaghetti and POOPballs!”. I found out later that she’d been saving that one.

Liam and Nate looked at one another for a beat, then burst out laughing, and Sam joined in simply because the other boys were laughing, and they were holding his mittens. So, poop joke = mirth, togetherness, and what can easily be mistaken for brotherly love.

*sound of camera clicking*

The back was done in Photoshop with the help of my Intuos4 PC Tablet. Initially, the cards came back from the printer and the yellow snow looked lime green. So we had to order another set pronto. Unfortunately, after a week of waiting for the mistake to be corrected, those cards also arrived with lime-green whiz. In the end, we decided to send them out anyway. It was either that, or we were going to have to hang onto 500 holiday postcards until St. Paddy’s Day.

As usual, my part in all this was mostly that of a Photoshop Puppet and Printer Liaison.

It was all Jill’s idea.

(To be visited by the Cards of Christmas Past, click here)

In our house, the start of the school year also means the start of the plague-of-the-month club. And, as the boys are taught to do in preschool, they share! With everyone! After a week of preschool, Liam came home and collapsed onto the couch with his blanket and half-mast eyes. Bean’s eyes are his tell when he’s sick, puffy with smoky half-moons underneath.

“I’m so sleepy, Mum-Mum.”

He drifted off and awoke an hour later in a sobbing rage, furious at the fever that had snuck up on him. I dosed him with Tylenol and wrestled his fiery little body into bed, rubbing his ears until he gave in to sleep again. He was out of school the next day. Although the high fever from the night before was gone, he off-handedly complained that his cheek hurt. I immediately made an appointment with the doctor because I know that that little comment…the one I used to ignore and not act on?…that means I have about 12 hours to get amoxicillin into him before he has a full-on sinus and ear infection. The doctor confirmed as much and faxed in a prescription to the Giant Eagle pharmacy.

For not feeling well, Liam was being unusually agreeable to being poked and prodded and driven all over town. We waited at the Giant Eagle pharmacy. Waited and waited…and, waited.

“Well, sometimes the faxes take a while to come in.”

“But, it would have been 30 minutes ago that he faxed it…”

“Maybe you should call and have them talk to us.”

Liam and I made our way to the front of the store so that my phone could get a signal and parked ourselves next to a giant pyramid of cases of bottled water. The front office was nice the first time I called. Sure! We’ll call that right in for you! Thanks! I’m at Giant Eagle on 40! OK! No problem! Thanks! No, thank you! 15 minutes later, nothin’. Back to the plastic water mountain. Now, the front office was irritated with me.

“Ma’am, I called it in 10 minutes ago and spoke with Elvin.”

“Lady, they do not have the prescription and there is no one named Elvin!”

“Well, I called it in to Giant on route 40 and…”

In lieu of screaming into my phone in the middle of the grocery store, I hissed through my gritted teeth at the doctor’s receptionist.

“I’m at GIANT EAGLE…not, GIANT!”

Liam licked the plastic around a case of water, daring me to do anything about it.

“Oh! Well that would be the problem, wouldn’t it!”

“That would be one of the problems.”

So, after an hour of faxing and calling our amoxicillin prescription in to the wrong pharmacy, she finally got it right. We wander back to the pharmacy and waited in line. Again.

Liam kept his shit together fairly well, especially given how long we’d had to wait and that he was sick. He leaned into me, hugging an arm around my thigh for support. I combed my fingers through his thick, glossy hair, marveling that mine used to be that exact color before it got darker…and lighter with all the gray. He popped his thumb into his mouth, got quiet, and began studying the faces around us.

I immediately went on high alert because, while Liam would never say anything intentionally mean spirited or hurtful to a stranger, he sometimes loudly questions things he doesn’t understand or makes loud comments about a person’s appearance. I’ve explained that that can hurt someone’s feelings, even though he wouldn’t mean to and that it would be better to save those kinds of questions until we’re alone.

I followed his gaze, trying to guess what he might be thinking and desperately seeking some sort of distraction. Just as I was about to start up a quiet game of ‘I spy,’ I saw his eyes settle on two men about ten feet from us. They were middle-aged and stylish. They stood hip to designer hip at the counter, one man rubbing the other’s back in comfort, as he seemed to be feeling under the weather. Just then, Liam’s thumb was pushed out of his mouth by an urgent question. His face tilted up to mine in concern and I braced, thinking more about how I would apologize to the men, rather than how I would answer his question.

With a nod to the gay couple in front of us my little master of the obvious, minus volume control said, “Mum-Mum! Why hasn’t that man’s hair come in yet?”

Well done, Liam! Not the observation I was expecting, yet still mortifying!

Last night, Liam convinced me that it was a good idea to swing him up high enough so that he could grab at bunches of leaves and kick walnuts with his feet. We kept having to stop each time Sam and his traveling volleyball show got to within ass-leveling range, and then it would take four or five times to get him up into the branches again.

I paused several times to wonder about the safety of this activity, but his belly laughs whenever he touched the leaves kept me going.

If Jill had looked outside and seen what we were doing, she’d have probably come out and kicked some nuts herself.

Everyone is happy. We’re on the cusp of a weekend. Bill is freshly home from work. He sits on the kitchen floor and pulls Nate into his lap and wraps his arms around him.

“Hey Buddy! Do you know what day tomorrow is?!”

“What?!”, asks Nate, beaming up at his favorite person in the world.

“After tomorrow, Da-da doesn’t have to go to work for the next day and the next day! We can be buddies!”

“What day?!”, Nate squeals.

“It’s a day that starts with ‘F’,” I say. I blow air through my top teeth, perched on my bottom lip. “fuh-fuh-fuh.”

“What day starts with the ‘fuh‘ sound, Nate?” asks Bill.

Nate waits a beat, lights up, and excitedly screams, “FURSDAY!”