Field Museum, Squires Style

Yesterday we made our first trip to Chicago with the kids, to spend the morning at the Field Museum. That is an amazing place. We only saw a small portion, and that in our little-kid way. The boys were most interested in dinosaur skeletons (T-Rex Sue was the main draw) and taxidermy. And boy do they have taxidermy! Personally, I find stuffed dead animals a little spooky.

Owen was most interested in Lucy, which none of us even saw. There was a photo of her at the entrance to an exhibit and Jude was terrified. Sam and Owen were vaguely worried. Owen is still asking if we're going to see "the guy," and he is making plans to go back and just "have a peek." Jude will have none of it. In fact, after three rowdy hours at the museum Jude told me he doesn't want to go back there anymore because it is boring.

Predictable they are not.

I loved taking the boys downtown. Sam is finally old enough that getting out of familiar territory seems worthwhile. (Going almost anywhere with these three takes a lot of energy.) Sam has often asked me about going to "the city" and we talked about the skyscrapers and Lake Michigan and the trains. I think often about trips we'd like to take with them: out west, to Canada, overseas. This felt like a first step to bigger adventures.

Friendly Wake-Up Calls

The first 10 minutes of the morning are unpredictable around here. Good moods, bad moods, occasional tantrums, feed-me-breakfast-now-or-I-will-die, quiet play. Every once in a great while, the boys wake up around the same time and talk to each other before coming to wake us up. Today was one of those days.

The conversation was pleasant but unremarkable until this:

Sam: "Owen, you are my best friend right?"

Jude: "No, Owen is my best friend."

Sam: "Owen, be MY best friend!"

Jude: "NO!! Owen is MY best friend!"

Sam: "Hey, we can ALL be friends."

Owen: "Yeah! Let's ALL be friends!"

Jude: "Yea, we're ALL friends!"

Kids Worship @ Bethel

Kids worship at Bethel Lutheran Church. Some singing at home (where the video picks up a lot more personality) and a little from the program. Fun times.

I Wish I Could Start Over!

Sam is having a hard day, which means I'm having a hard day. He's missing out on special Christmas events at church this morning because he could not get control of himself. He's an impulsive, ahem, *expressive* child and some days it's too much.

I'm sure the non-stop anticipation of Christmas is part of this; as is my being sick. It's sad. It's hard to decide when to give leeway because life is stressful and when enough is enough. This morning when he chanted that he hates me I decided we'd crossed the line. So, he is missing the "party" (aka child care) the youth are offering at church today.

Now that he's calmed down, he's been telling me he wishes he could start over. "Can we go back to breakfast time so I can make good choices and go the party?" It's hard to watch my own kid begin to grasp one of life's great tragedies. There's no starting over. The consequences press on no matter how profoundly we grieve mistakes. Hmmm. Sorry, Sam.

Today's Miracles

It's only 9:30 a.m and already a list of miracles for today:

• I can hear. I've been 70% deaf for about a week and trying home remedies for excessively waxy ears. No luck, so I went to the dr. early this morning and she unplugged both ears. Now I can hear what is happening outside of me. I've been listening to some loud ringing in both ears. Today I learned that the ringing is the sound of my own bloodflow.
• A second showing of our house. Woo hoo! Maybe we'll get a buyer out of this. What a Christmas gift it would be to be done owning a house we don't live in.
• The year's first snow. It doesn't seem likely to accumulate, but there is a trace of snow on the ground. Walking home from dropping Jude at school Owen was full of exciting snow-related announcements. "Look, Mom, there is snow on our parking lot! And on our grass! And on the steps! And on the deck! (Entering the house, stomping his foot on the doormat to leave bits of snow there) See? I told you!"
• And now for the daily miracle that I often miss because of chemo-related ickiness: coffee.