Back at HomePosted: December 15, 2012
I’m still feeling a bit odd blogging about myself in the midst of the Newtown tragedy. But I also don’t think I can say anything productive about it. We’re all heartsick and shaken and devastated, and (I believe given that I know my readership), fortunate to be experiencing this horror from a distance. I could do some political railing, but again, I know most of my friends agree with me on issues like gun control (one of the advantages of living in a liberal bubble), and I also know I’m not going to change the minds of those who don’t agree. So I guess what I’m saying is I don’t really want to talk about it, but I felt like something had to be said before I began nattering about my more typical inanities.
The Husband Hausfraus have officially moved back into their own home, much to the delight, no doubt, of the ever helpful and gracious and welcoming La Gigi and El Papa. They put up with us for ten days and even made it seem like they enjoyed having us there! Das Big Boy loved the time with his grandparents, and Herr Husband and I were grateful to be cared for (and fed) so kindly and generously! It’s nice to be back in our house–now with heat!!–and Das Big Boy was definitely excited to see all of his toys and books again.
This morning Das Big Boy attended his music class at Boston Children’s Hospital. It’s a special class run by the HOPE (Home Oxygen Parent Exchange) Program, the brainchild of best-doctor-ever Larry Rhein. It’s a music class for NICU alums and pulmonology patients who have to be hyper-vigilant about germs. For families still experiencing some sort of cold/flu season lockdown, it’s a lifeline: a place the parents know is safe, where the children can engage in fun and developmentally appropriate activities, and a place where parents can talk to folks in similar situations. Our first two winters “on the outside,” it was a godsend. And now Das Big Boy has transformed into one of the kids I used to watch with a hopeful heart! As we know, he’s been struggling a bit socially of late, but with the exception the occasional barrage of “Mommy!” shouts and one brief exit to calm down, he had a really good time. He was super excited to sing “Five Little Monkeys,” the countdown aspect of which bores him as his favorite number is five. He banged on his drum and invited himself to play the teacher’s guitar after class. All in all, a success, according to Herr Husband.
Tonight we had a new bedtime story for the first time in a while (which sadly meant we didn’t get to hear Das Big Boy doing the voices for Interrupting Chicken): the always delightful One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. Usually, Herr Husband and I jockey to read the most fun parts:
“Oh, what a bed! Oh, what a house!” (25).
“At our house, we open cans. We have to open many cans. And that is why we have a Zans” (37).
“This is no good and I know why. A mouse has cut the wire. Good-by!” (53).
But tonight we invited each other to read these parts. Aw, shucks! Maybe ’cause it’s bedrest date night. Which looks not that different from any other evening, except there’s a full movie watched, usually with snack food. (And get your mind out of the gutter. Pelvic rest continues until I’m trying to induce labor–should we get to that point, and should I be able to convince Herr Husband that it sounds like any fun at all…).
And on that note, I wish you sweet dreams, sweet ballerinas.