Some "Comin' Out" Pics

C'est la femme! (It's a girl) Not that you can tell in this lovely profile shot...

Pictures of our completed kitchen remodel. Yes, we're quite happy with it :). (You'll have to scroll way down to see the post with "before" pictures.)

Raising a Heathen

Sascha came home on Sunday to an exhausted post-four-days-of-supreme-attitude-and-sleep-deprived family. Ari was in rare form, wanting to play "socka" outside with Dad but also extremely tired and ready for a nap. Sascha comes in after 10 minutes of play with a strange look, his eyebrows elevated. Apparently, Ari was so tired that he cussed his way through playtime, proclaiming "shit shit shit" while running along and trying to kick the soccer ball.

I think we need to start watching our language...

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Listening to an NPR segment on the history of Christmas celebration today, Ari and I held the following discussion:

Ari: Mugoo, mugoo! (music, music)

Wendy: Ari, Mommy's learning about Christmas right now, that's what they're talking about.

Ari: silence, as he considers this...

Radio: yadda yadda yadda Christmas yadda yadda

Ari (sudden gasp): Santa Clause!

Wendy (eyebrows raised): Yes Ari, that's right. Santa Clause...and Baby Jesus.

Ari: Deedas? Beebee?

Hm, somehow we've gotten our priorities messed up...

Update

For those of you sending up prayers, thank you.

Arnie is doing better, as of last night, despite a random rapid-onset fever yesterday. The chest tube (a horrible "discomfort") was removed, as were a couple other tubes and he was able to get up for a little bit.

My Grandpa has decided to pursue heart surgery and is doing better (although exhausted), back home, diagnosed with "angina" and awaiting a cardiologist's visit to his small, rural hospital to discuss and schedule heart surgery in Sioux City, IA.

Hunkering Down

Once you become Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always.

As it states to the right, Margery Williams wrote this in her profound children's book, the Velveteen Rabbit. And let me tell you, things are certainly Real right now. In this yuletide season of joy, gratitude, warmth and deliverance I find myself crying more than laughing. Of course, it has something to do with the month. December brings this on for me. But this year, my extended family is hunkering down with me. Time to weather the storm.

After surviving an away-from home Thanksgiving week, Sascha flew out to Michigan to be with his dad (Arnie) Thursday during his complicated and serious surgery on Friday. He came through very well and everyone was relieved. Sascha flew home Sunday after another Michigan blizzard and arrived safely in San Diego. A few hours later we received word that Rigo, Arnie's Rottweiler, had fallen through the ice and has not yet been found. Arnie was told while still recovering in the hospital.

Reality.

This morning, my grandfather was taken to the hospital for the third time in a week, this time by ambulance. Prognosis: an artery is blocked and his body is gearing up for a heart attack, after a stroke last week. A 91 year old man with more lives than 10 cats, he now has to decide whether to go in for surgery or allow "nature to take it's course".

Reality.

After all of this, topped off by the sheer exhaustion of single-parenting a toddler going through yet another boundary-challenging phase (along with a small death wish), I've come to realize that Reality isn't something I've really been facing lately. Hell, most people don't face it at all. Ever. The Reality I'm talking about is the stark in-you-face knowledge that life is *not* absolute. It is temporary. It is a fleeting thing and can disappear in an instant. We take it for granted, this life thing. We yell at people we love. We criticize. We trudge or drink our way through the holidays with a sense of duty and "just get through it" rather than joy. We lack faith in our fellow human soldiers on this field and lack even more faith in God. I've been picking at this bone for weeks now and, now that I'm emotionally, physically and mentally shredded, it's finally come to a head.

I plead with all who may read this...appreciate your loved ones while they're here. Tell them you love them, to their face, and mean it. If you don't mean it, if you really don't love them, then either deal with it and heal or admit when it's finished. For goodness sake, life is too short not to be honest (I'm talking real situational honesty, not that nit-picking criticism cloaked as honesty). And I'm as guilty as any other - for keeping quiet when I have something to say, for being scared to draw confrontation or for lacking the words to voice the thoughts inside. Well, as a resolution, this ends now. It will take time for me to find a new strength and a firm voice. Just as it will take time for others to work their way through the truth, if it happens at all. But if we have faith...

I first became Real when Matt died. The reality and truth of life hit me square in the face. And that slap mark hasn't gone away. It takes something like that to wipe the benign insouciance off your face as you trip your way blithely through life. Suddenly everything is meaningful and you're staring Truth in the face. As I re-entered life, some of that insouciance returned but the dark knowledge of loss keeps me pretty grounded and I manage to keep my priorities straight most of the time. I hope that continues, although I miss the blind innocence of the past.

There are some who may lift an eyebrow at this posting. Well, lift away. It's my blog. Start your own. But at least be honest.

Paraphernalic Update

Cat Update
All blood tests came back clean...according to the lab, Bella is a healthy cat. Oh, praise the whiskered gods. Although the vet did suggest doing a $300-400 ultrasound to "potentially" rule out Irritable Bowel Disease and/or Lymphoma since she's lost so much weight over the past year and a half. I said no, we'll just feed her more, thanks. If she has cancer, she'll get more sick and die. If she has IBD, she'll throw up and won't gain weight. Call it a low-rent, do-it-yourself diagnostic test (she's a cat for Christ sake).
Status
Weight: She's now filling out and doing just fine.
Fleas: Dead.
What I learned: Trust your gut. Don't freak out. This too shall pass. Don't always follow a "medical professional's" advice. An animal is an animal and people are people. Try to remember the difference. Sometimes vets forget that difference.

Remodel Update

Well, we'll be eating out for at least two more days although I have considered trying to create oatmeal in a coffee pot so maybe there are some merits down certain avenues I haven't yet contemplated. Ari loves our contractor. His name is Bob. Bob the Builder. Ari is nicer to Bob than he is to me. When Bob leaves for the day, Ari rushes in with his wooden hammer and says, "tools, work, fix" and bangs away on the sides of the cupboards. Ari likes to fix things. And while he doesn't like noise itself, he does like to create his own.
Status
Kitchen: Dusty, gaping hole with promise of resurrection.
Appliances: Slight hope for a sink this weekend. Little hope for a stove before Monday.
Spirits: Really not bad. Would be better with wine.

Here are some pictures from our dust-covered adventure this week.







Before (Sunday). Hmm, this looks nice, actually. Hint: you can't see the cracked, moldy tile grout, the plastic coating peeling off the cabinets, the chipped sink or the appliances-on-their-last-leg.













It's Hammertime.














Hey, who put that there?








Tuesday.










Wednesday. We're refacing the cabinets, not replacing.









Baby Update

Had our 4 month check-up today. I had to ask my midwife how far along I am...you tend to leave those kinds of details up to the professionals when it's your second. Answer: 17 weeks. Ari enjoyed weighing himself over and over again while waiting for the adults to stop talking.

Midwife: "Ari, how much do you weigh?"
Ari: "Two."

Status
Baby: Fine. Heart's a-beatin'.
Momma: Fine, albeit with varicose veins and killer heartburn.

The Prodigal Cat Returns

Yep. She came home.

If you've been keeping up with the Freiwald Family Sagas, you'll know that our slightly dingy cat Bella disappeared three weeks ago last night. We had pretty much given her up for dead (and had gotten quite used to an enjoyable one cat household)...until she showed up Friday night. Un-friggin-believable. I was sitting on the couch thinking about dinner when I heard feline yelling through the patio door. My first thought, "No way. No. Freaking. Way." I walked onto the patio and found that the yelling was coming from our neighbor's patio. I looked through the crack between our walls and found a cross-eyed pair of blue eyes staring back at me. Yep, that's Bell. After three weeks. (No, our neighbor did not steal her...there's a large crack in her patio that a very skinny cat can wiggle through from the outside.)

After much ado, I managed to get a relieved/freaked-out Bella back into our garage and she scarfed down food and water like she hadn't eaten in, well, three weeks. Which she probably hadn't, given the way she looked. After a night spent in the garage, during which she threw up everything I tried to get into her, I took her to the vet. They were flabbergasted that she came home after that long. I guess that just doesn't happen here with all the predators. Everyone kept telling me how lucky she/I is/am. I'm not so sure "lucky" is the word...

The prognosis:

• Bella's lost over 50% of her bodyweight in 18 months (since her last vet checkup), half of which was probably lost over the past 3 weeks...my best guess.
  
• Due to the severe weight loss over 18 months, her psychosis and vomiting, the vet's testing her for hyperthyroidism, diabetes, kidney disease and cancer. (Sometimes I think the vet can go a bit overboard...I mean, jeesh, maybe she's just a mentally disabled cat who hasn't eaten in three weeks.) We'll get the lab results today. I know Sascha's praying for cancer so I'll be okay with simply putting her down...but I don't want to drag our dirty laundry out on this sunny day.
  
• And. She has fleas. Oh joy.

Ergo, Bella's been sequestered in the garage since Friday night, waiting for the flea medication to do it's lovely stuff. Mo's really not too clued in that she's back...or he just doesn't give a crap. Ari kept repeating "bawa, bawa, bawa" all Friday night and now every time I go into the garage to pull my feline Florence Nightingale he mantras "bawa cat, bawa cat". Add to that the fact that our kitchen remodel began today with much banging, sawdust, plaster, tools and boxes of kitchen paraphernalia taking refuge throughout our house...and you'll see that chaos continues to reign nicely in the Freiwald household. It's nice that some things remain constant, isn't it?

Serenity now.
Serenity now.
Serenity now.

Ari-Week in Review, an Update for Grandparents

I realized earlier this week that I never posted Halloween pictures...that's probably because Halloween was less than climactic in our household. Hm, scratch that. It was climactic, but not in a good way. During the day, Ari and I met up with some friends of ours at a pumpkin patch to do some ride-riding and popcorn eating. We had a blast.

Below: our friends (Syndney & Brandi) and Ari in the Bouncy House.



However, Ari awoke from his nap that day in such a snit that I feared dragging out the fuzzy puppy costume so we could go trick or treating at our local mall. As I feared, the world erupted when I even suggested he don such a garmet. He threw a fit for an hour, which is when Sascha stepped in and went all hard-core Halloween Nazi on him. "You will put on this puppy costume and we will have fun tonight, goddamit." I thought it was a little over the top for something that's a bit of an optional event...but it did work. Ari put that over-padded puppy costume on in almost 80 degree weather and sweated and scratched his way through trick-or-treating (I failed to check the inside for itchy parts...). All in all, it wasn't that much fun, but at least we experienced the holiday.

a) With friend Lexy...both of them looking dubious; b) Still doubtful.






The next day, Ari peed in the potty for the first time. I know, we'll post anything.










He also used his first name (aside from "mom, dad, pop pop" and his own name)..."Mo". Our cat. And I quote, "Here Mo, hey Mo, eat, eat!" And trying to feed Mo pieces of his train set.

Prentending has really become the new game over the past couple weeks. He pretends to be our dog by barking, sniffing, licking and bringing us blocks in his mouth. He pretends to cook a meal or a cake and then serves a round tupperware lid to me, placed neatly upon a rectangular lid. We pretend to sneak through a jungle looking for spiderweds while prowling through the bushes at the park. He pretends to see a bug and then "gets it" by slapping his hands together..."Got it!"



Modeling his sunglasses...loooves the groovy look.









Contemplating life while eating a snack.






Today we went to Balboa Park and played "tourist for a day"...or maybe it's "local for a day" since you could seriously pick out all the freezing tourists who only packed shorts for our 65-plus-a-very-cold-wind weather. (Everyone fails to realize that the posted temperature is sans consideration of the cold ocean breeze.) We love going to Balboa, it's a fantastic and unique place, full of history and things to do. Despite Ari having a moderate head cold, he didn't stop dashing from climbing tree roots to examing fountains to jumping off everything. We all had a great time. Not bad for a day free of charge.

Below: Ari jumping at the Hospitality House.

a) a massive tree in the Zoro Garden, Ari is the small speck in the lower left corner; b) climbing the roots to the top, he did it himself; c) on one of the walls in the Zoro Garden, where we watched a dozen teenage ninjas jump and flip over the railings; d) Ari wishing in the Botanical House.

At the Botanical House...