The big K is almost here

Thursday will mark the end of an era. Five and half years ago, the arrival of Paul began my journey as a stay-at-home mom. He's been with me every step of the way, so it is with decidedly mixed emotions that I will be sending him to kindergarten. Like all milestones, it's bittersweet. I will miss seeing his sweet face and having him available for a snuggle whenever I want to take one.

Now that the time for school is upon us, I want to take back all the times the boys were squabbling and I wished that school would just start already, as if by some feat of magical thinking I could gain back those hours and days. Even if I'd cherished every moment, this day still would have arrived just as quickly, I know. OK, so my heart is heavy right now. The parenting book I'm reading right now urges me to acknowledge what I'm feeling and accept it. I'm sad, and that's OK!

This time around, I have the benefit of experience on my side (not to mention the fact that, unlike when Ben started kindergarten, I don't have a 2-week-old and wacky hormones to deal with). I know from doing this once already that the first days are hard, but soon everything will feel routine. With my heavy heart, that's what I'm going to hold onto for now. I'll focus on that and the new friends and new experiences I hope await my dear boy. Ready or not, it's time for Paul and me to embark on a new journey. Maybe I'll have some new adventures awaiting me as well. No matter what, each day at 3:30 I'll be waiting to claim my missed snuggles.

Happy 3rd birthday, Wild Man Gus!

"Challenging." "Spirited." "A handful." On really bad days, "such a sh*t." These are just some of the phrases I've used to describe my third-born. Before Gus's arrival, I thought parenting was pretty tough. The reality of newborn sleep habits hit me hard and sent me reeling when I had Ben. Unlike Ben, Paul, an otherwise laid-back kid, was known to climb a bit. Having had two boys, I thought I had this down pretty well. Little did I know, none of my experience would prepare me sufficiently for Hurricane Gus.

As I mentioned in a recent blog, Gus was colicky and then after a period of a few calm months morphed into crazy, reckless boy. With Ben and Paul, we installed the standard child-safety devices: outlet covers, cabinet locks. Once Gus was mobile, we had to invest in gadgets I didn't even know existed. Door knob covers, locks for our Lazy Susan and oven. (The last I quickly ordered on Amazon after finding the oven door ajar one day while I was baking cookies. Miraculously, Gus didn't burn himself.)

As much as Gus has tested my sanity, as I like to say, there's another side to him. He is the happiest person I know, and it's infectious. Whether he's having a giggle fit or belting out "Frère Jacques" in the middle of a quiet church, he has an irrepressible joie de vivre. My family had this chocolate Lab, Bailey. Gus reminds me a lot of a Lab. Lab puppies are irresistibly cute, and the grown dogs are good-natured, making them a great choice for families with young kids; however, Labs also are incredibly mischievous. In fact, remembering dearly departed Bailey putting his paws up on the counter in order to reach some food, I think of Gus pushing a chair over to the counter so he may better reach the fruit snack cupboard. Even when Bailey committed one of his jaw-dropping acts of naughtiness, and believe me, we have many stories, it was hard to stay angry with him. Such is the case with Gus.

Gus has given me a great gift, one I really needed. He's taught me patience. The frustrations of child-rearing used to get me really tense. In his special Gus way, he's changed me a little bit. Having him challenge me in so many ways has helped me mellow. Instead of flying into a mini rage in frustrating situations, I've learned to just take a deep breath and move on (most of the time, anyway - I am still human).

Gus, you are one-of-kind. You filled the Gus-shaped hole in our lives, and you bring us so much joy. You make us laugh and smile every day, and I don't know what we'd do without you. Happy 3rd birthday, sweet Wild Man Gus!

Mom, I don't feel so ... bleahhh

That's the best imitation I can come up with of the sound my kids make when they uncontrollably vomit all over. I don't know if I'm alone in this, but my kids seem to throw up a lot. I'm sorry if this topic turns your stomach, but it's on my mind this week, especially after yesterday. I'll get to that soon. Last week wasn't a great one for the Thiel family. It started a week ago Friday when Ben and Paul were supposed to go on their first camping trip with their Grandma and Grandpa Thiel. Ben came down with strep, and though he and Paul were able to go the next day, they were sad that their much-anticipated trip had to be shortened.

When the boys returned from camping last Sunday, Ben was pale and feverish. For no reason I can see, as he was on antibiotics, his fever lingered into Wednesday. Then Paul, who has tubes in his ears and was on ear drops for an ear infection, spiked a fever. A very expensive trip to the ENT revealed that his infected ear was so full of fluid and crud, the drops weren't even making it to their destination. Lovely. Sickness always stinks for kids, but it feels especially unfair during the summer.

We had a busy weekend planned: for Saturday a gathering with all the Thiels at Mark's parents' house, for Sunday Mark and I competing on relay teams for the Oshkosh Triathlon. We thought we were in the clear, you know, at least we had gotten the boys' sickness out of the way in time for them to share some fun with their cousins. Not so fast.

After eating a big lunch and two desserts, Paul began to look green and said he didn't feel well. I should have known: note aforementioned proclivity toward puking. I think I was in denial. It was hot outside and in the house. Maybe it was just getting to him. I was sitting outside when Mark came and said we had to leave. Paul had, well you know, down the steps and onto Mark's parents' carpeting. I went in to discover the acrid smell of bile mixing with the warm air in the house. I was mortified.

Sadly, I think we're developing a reputation. This isn't the first time we've had a run-in with Mark's family. Two Christmases ago, Ben and Paul had stomach flu, and they inadvertently passed their malady to numerous members of the family, resulting in a very ill New Year. I wouldn't blame them if they shudder a bit every time we arrive. (Side note: turns out strep was to blame for Paul's sick stomach this time.) Believe me, I have other embarrassing stories as well, like the time Ben threw up at church and it ran down the sloped floor, and the second time he tossed his cookies there, this time in the hall. Come to think of it, we probably make St. Bernard Parish a little nervous, too.

Next weekend we will go on vacation with my family. At least the boys have gotten it out of their systems. Or have they? Watch out Ceman family.