Sneak peek...

...of the wonderful pictures I will soon get to - maybe this weekend - of you and our Boston trip. Like last summer after Atlanta, if I wait too long I won't do it at all. Or forget all the details.

An enduring childhood classic, set against the backdrop of an all-white Boston in 1941. Mr. and Mrs. Mallard select the city as the spot to raise their ducklings, but although there are no dangerous foxes or turtles, there are still plenty of surprises and excitement in store for them in Boston. And they have new friends: Michael the Irish cop and his buddies.

The very popular sculpture dedicated to the book was in the public garden. You loved it so much, you kept saying "Take my picture, Mama. Cheeeeeeeese!"

Perfect pose after perfect pose. This was the only time during the trip you actually wanted to get your picture taken and weren't just appeasing me with a giant, fake smile. Awww.

It was our last morning in Boston. After we spent time with the ducks, we took one last walk down Newbury Street to gaze upon the elite shoppers.

We stopped at this fabulous little vintage poster shop and here you and your dad are outside on the street.

Goodbye, Boston!

Home Sweet Home

We got home from our 7-day Boston trip late Saturday night. After throwing you in bed, you screamed that your bum hurt, then slept until 6 a.m. Today we were up at 5 a.m., but you were happy. Then it hurt when you peed so we went to the doctor's office. Looks like a bladder infection. That's what we're dealing with right now. Lots of pictures and details to come. Not of the bladder infection. Just the trip. I'll get to it sometime. When I'm not planting. Or working.

Confirmation

We got you packed into your wagon and were ready to leave Amy's house today when you said, "David's going to stay here?"

Zaiden looked up at Amy and said, "My name's not David, right?"

You call him David so much, the poor kid is having an identity crisis - at three!

Weeeeeeee!

When a parent is more childish than the child from Really Silly Lily and her mama on Vimeo.

We're outta here!

Tomorrow we're flying to Boston for a week. Much anticipated and much deserved. Dad's going to the HOW Design Conference (where I was when we went to Atlanta last year). You and I will have our days full with swimming, shopping and touring around the historic streets. Can't wait!

Nana got out of the hospital on Tuesday night (after no revelations) so you spent Wednesday and Thursday with her. Yesterday you guys went to the lake and fed the baby ducks and baby geese. Awwwww. Followed by an ice cream cone, then a slurpee. And we wonder why you're never hungry when we come home...

Today you're at the babysitter's while we pack and ready the home and yard - things that don't seem to get done when you're around. Mostly because you need someone to push you on the swings. Or mostly because your dad and I can't resist playing all day!

Ongoing

By Thursday, you were so owly at the continued disruptions in your routine that you threw a tantrum so big and cried so hard that you burst all the blood vessels around your eyes. Suffice to say that we took you to the doctor the next day - just to confirm what we'd suspected. Oh, those little tiny blood bruises. You are one emotionally charged little girl.

But we were troopers and hit the hospital to visit twice on Friday - after taking the edge off at Toys R Us, of course. And we were lucky to get day passes for Nana to come over both on Saturday and on Sunday. We celebrated Nana's birthday along with Mother's Day because we won't be around for her actual birthday next Sunday.

We expected her to get released today, but alas, after her scope they ordered another CT scan of her abdomen. Hopefully tomorrow. She really wants to babysit you and you really want Nana to come over. You were crushed again when Nanny didn't get on the elevator with us with us when we left the hospital again tonight.

But fortunately, there was one highlight to our evening. I discovered that our spiffy new computer has a camera built in so we spent some silly time taking pictures and making movies. I have a feeling that this will be a new favourite activity for us.

Little ball of stress

Nanny's been back in the hospital since Monday at noon when we went with her to her doctor's appointment. Her hemoglobin has dropped again so she needed another transfusion. Except this time she'll be in until they do a bunch of scopes and a bone marrow biopsy. May even be in until sometime next week.

I have little faith in the health care system when the doctor - only four weeks ago - promised she would not be released until they found the problem. Obviously they were wrong.

My stress levels are through the roof lately. Work is the biggest stressor. The anticipation of change. The stress of nothing actually happening. Then with Nanny in the hospital and Skye staying with us - and pooping and peeing on the floor - it's all too much.

And I wish I could say I've sheltered you from it, I can't. I'm short with you, tired and generally rushed. Rushed to get supper in us, rushed to get to the hospital every evening, rushed to get you home to bed.

It's getting to you, too. You cry and latch onto me when you go to Amy's in the morning. You do not want to cooperate with anything. And you're tired. It's just hard on all of us. Boy, do we need a vacation.

Soapy, Banana and David

You've been going to the babysitter for just over a month now. You love it. You are so happy to go that you'll let me put a ponytail in your hair and get you dressed in under five minutes. (I tend to bend the truth and tell you that Amy requires your hair in a ponytail or pigtails, so that speeds things up.)

Everytime we drive by (because it's on our way to the Nana's and the Home Depot), you say "Bye Amy!" When we walk in the door in the morning, you cannot stop talking about "da cute witto babies," while stroking the blonde one's cheek. I love asking you about your day. What you did, what you ate, did you have a nap. (Played, noonals and sauce, yes - though from what we hear, you don't sleep for more than two minutes if at all.)

It's especially cute when you are looking out the window while we drive or when you're trying to sleep, you'll blurt out something like, "David had a sore tummy and den he fell down a hurt his lip on the floor." Or "Soapy had a pee pee diaper." And "Banana is so cute."

But we didn't know who David was. Maybe a little boy who got dropped off after and picked up before you? So one day Dad asked Amy. "His name's Zaiden. There is no David." But you so clearly say David and we don't know anyone or any character named David. And Banana? That's Alanna Banana, Zaiden's baby sister whom you totally adore. And Soapy, of course, is Sophie.

I wonder what you call us when we're not around.

First foray into consumerism

We were out all morning last Saturday. Went for breakfast to Smitty's, to Wal-Mart for a toilet handle, then to every home store in town looking for beautiful - and apparently unattainable - lamps. One of our stops was Pier 1.

When I went to get you out of your car seat, you asked if you could bring your wallet. Sure, why not? So I scooped you up and you took your bright pink wallet and we went into the store. As we browsed and contemplated some green ceramic lamps, you also looked at and touched everything in your vicinity.

After deciding no, we'd rather have something white or glass, we proceeded to leave. And then you saw it. A rack of discounted Easter items. "Easter stuff!" you yelled and pointed. So we went over to browse. "Can I have that chickie?" "I don't know," I said. "Let's look and see how much money you have." We opened up your wallet and emptied the money. One nickel and four pennies. The orange price tag said $0.08. Perfect.

You put the money in one hand, the chickie in the other. Dad sat you on the counter, the man came up to help you. He rang in the chickie. "Eight cents, please." You held out your hand and he took your coins. "You can have this one back," he said, handing you a penny. "Would you like a bag?" to which you nodded. "Here's your receipt. Do you want it in the bag?" to which you nodded again. He held out your bag and you took it with a tiny "thank-you."

You bought something all by yourself. And while it won't be the last time, it was the first and I was so proud. And so were you.