.::still blinking::.

We seem unable to keep Gentry healthy. He is not feeling well, again. So jj and I are taking turns hanging out with him today. We are currently watching, what I assume is the last cartoon on network tv. All claymation and spanish speaking, “Capeetan!” That would be spanish in english phonetics.

JJ’s boss, is a quick talking whitty genius. When I meet with him I have to write down all the words I don’t know and then go look them up later. I can show you the lists. This only becomes difficult because I am writing the words down in Makayla phonetics since I don’t know many large words and then I have to try to figure out what he said from the weird thing I spelled. I am predicting that Gentry and I are on the same reading level. Pre-kindergarten.

I have been teaching Gentry to read, so that I can get his kindergarten teacher to hate me. Is it just me or does it seem that I have heard horror stories of teachers being pissed about kids who can read? Anyway, the point of this is that we have been sounding out the letters. And are you aware C and K make the same sounds, unless they don’t or if preceded by ie. Also C and S. I mean for real. I don’t even know how to explain this to the kid. Hopefully as we progress through the book this will be explained. IE. When God created reading and dinosaurs he really wanted to trip us up, hence euoplocephalus. Which being pronounced is yu-OP-lo-SEF-ah-lus. Obviously.

We are quarantined to our house for a week. I should have started earlier with it and if we have infected you I am sorry. I found out today Gentry has Hand Foot Mouth Disease. We took him to the doctor on Saturday and they told us it was strep throat. Misdiagnosed. He has been acting weird since Thursday. With basically every symptom. Easily misdiagnosed.

He is acting really good, but man I hate having a sick kid. We are probably going to get a little nutty over in these parts just lying around staring at each other, sigh, for a week. Thank you for all your offers to help us out. If I need anything I will let you all know.

I have been mesmerized by this photographers website today. Take a look, get inspired. I am off to fill my little guys stomach with ice cream and sprite. Sickness does a sweet tooth good.

Photo from here.

I was out back talking to a neighbor this afternoon. Our kids were playing in the garage around the corner and suddenly started screaming like the neighborhood sex offender had just arrived and shared something special with them. We ran around the corner to see what was going on. They had been kicking ants and a surprising thing happened, the ants got mad and started fighting back. They were crawling up their legs and pinching like a good little ant army.

We pulled their pant legs up and quickly brushed the ants off, but the little girl Gentry was playing with was really upset. I went and got the ant poison and dumped a bunch down their hole. Bug poison always makes me think of Concentration Camps, the showers, my German art history class in college, memorials to all the Jews, I’d like to go there someday. I wonder how much houses are going for in Germany. I wonder if I could get water rights in Germany and live sustainably on a farm. Italy would be cool. When was the last time I checked for houses/farms for sale there. Oh, last night. Along with Bali. Where you could live on a tropical island for the same price as living here. Although would they let a guy who looks like he is part of Irish Mafia and his wife and child in? Not sure.

Back to the subject. I remember one time when I was little, lying on my Grandma Katherine’s floor. I was just lazying about as most 8ish year olds do when I felt a pinch on my leg. I looked down and there was a biggish ant that had just bit me, the little bastard. Those hurt. So I guess having ants in your pants is not the best possible activity for a nice spring day.

Also, the first time I saw this exact photo I dreamed about the ant that night. I dreamed it had burrowed into my skin and I could see it crawling around. You can click on the link and see my comment from 12 months ago. Frightening.

Gentry got a new bed this week. He started hopping out of his crib in the morning. I figured it was time. He is 3 1/2. We had to switch his room with the office. I really like the result though. The light comes pouring in his room in the afternoon and really lights up the tent and the bright colors are so cute in here.

I am considering moving in with him. It feels so nice in his room.

He is really proud of his new bed. I thought he would be sleeping on the bottom bunk, but he will have nothing to do with it. He is the king of the bunk bed, and he still calls us in the morning to let us know to come and get him. He can get in and out of his bed all day long, but in the morning he needs some good cuddling. Which I don’t mind dispersing.

The best part of today is that there is hope that tomorrow will be better.

And nap time was pretty good too.

Last night all of us got very little sleep. JJ came to bed at 2. Gentry woke up crying at 3, so he came and slept/snored with us. JJ put him back in bed at 4. He woke up crying again at 5 and spent the rest of the night curled up with me. We eventually woke up at 9 when JJ left and opened our loud scary monster garage door.

You can really tell the lack of sleep on Gentry. He is messy and lies and cannot hear me talking directly to him. I think today will be a good day for a nap. Cross your fingers.

All members of my household have been potty trained for quite some time now. I would say months. Which really is an accomplishment, being I really didn’t want to put any time or effort into it and stress myself out. Which would result in my son hating me, running away, shooting up heroine, and writing tell all books about his ordeal in my house. Who’s to say that won’t happen anyway.

Back to the potty training. When you are male, there are two ways to use the rest room. Options. Choices. I taught him to sit and go for all purposes. But he eventually realized that dad stands up and he wants to too. So when he announces he needs to go potty, he also adds insightfully, “I will sit.” Or, “I will stand, like dad.” And that is where the dread sets in.

Now, I try to help him. I have put chips in the toilet to aim at. I really don’t understand how this is not working. How can things be pointed down and be shooting up three feet in the air. Or hitting the back wall of the bathroom. Or only peeing in the left side corner, while aiming at the toilet. Basically coating all objects around and behind the toilet.

Also, there are about seventeen false stops. “I am done.” Back away from the toilet. Resume peeing on floor. Stop. Shoot at the base of the toilet once more. Stop. Turn around. Hit mom in the leg. Stop. Turn around to get some on the wall by the towels or the door. Or…

You get the idea. I am really glad to be potty trained, however, this standing and peeing. It has to go.

I like my baby (he prefers big boy).

I especially like when dad keeps telling us to stop giggling while he is reading the scriptures. I continue to tickle and poke him, forcing him to squeal with laughter and resulting in my own defiant laughter.

For most of life, nothing wonderful happens. If you don’t enjoy getting up and working and finishing your work and sitting down to a meal with family or friends, then the chances are that you’re not going to be very happy. If someone bases his happiness or unhappiness on major events like a great new job, huge amounts of money, a flawlessly happy marriage or a trip to Paris, that person isn’t going to be happy much of the time. If, on the other hand, happiness depends on a good breakfast, flowers in the yard, a drink or a nap, then we are more likely to live with quite a bit of happiness. :: Andy Rooney ::

I am trying.

I have hauled Gentry’s mattress into my room so that he will stop jumping on my bed while I fold the laundry. My room has become a small three ring circus. There is running and jumping and hiding and throwing of small squishy balls.

We also have Charlotte’s Web playing. Fern’s mother is concerned about her daughters best friends being a pig, sheep, and other farm animals. She has taken her concerns to the town doctor. Dr. Dorian. He replies, “There is a name for her condition, sadly it is one she will outgrow. Childhood.”