The Mostly True Adventures of Scary Moose

Samuel has an imaginary friend. Peter and I can’t recall exactly how old Samuel was when his buddy entered our lives, but we remember how it happened. Over the treat bucket one evening after dinner, we think Samuel was just around 2, Samuel tells Peter that “Scary Moose wants some daddy candy too.” Peter looks at me, I look at him and we both lift our eyebrows. Who is Scary Moose? Instantly, recollections of a movie called The Sixth Sense pop into our brains and we hear a little boy whisper, “I see dead people.” After Peter and I give each other a sideways glance that says “FREAKY!” we proceed to ask exactly who Scary Moose is. A few moments later, we deduct that Samuel has developed an imaginary friend, named Scary Moose of all things. Not Fifi Bunny or Timmy the Mouse. Really, truly, his name is Scary Moose. Over the last two years, we’ve learned a lot about this friend, and he is indeed, very friendly. He’s also well behaved, has a mommy and daddy, and listens to directions much better than Samuel does.

Initially, based on what I thought I knew about imaginary friends, I couldn’t help question, what have we done wrong? Is he emotionally maladjusted? Socially deprived? Having a hard time with transitions? Research into imaginary friends, however, indicates it is actually quite positive. Studies show that children with imaginary friends are usually extraverts, pretty well adjusted socially, very creative, think it is just good fun to have one, often idolize them, and explore new adventures with them. Overall, the concept of an imaginary friend is very encouraging. Thank the stars and moon, our son doesn’t see dead people (that we know of anyway).

What’s also interesting about Scary Moose, is that when Ethan grasped the concept of Scary Moose somewhere in his second year, he adopted him too. Both our boys share this pal, and the three of them often play games. They’ve hunted dinosaurs, trapped spiders, raced cars, rode horses and flown to outer space together. They both talk to Scary Moose, and seem to have a positive relationship with their furry friend. Scary Moose likes to travel, he eats excessive amounts of pasta, his favorite color is black, and he always holds his mother’s hand when he crosses the street. He lives at our house, shares a bedroom with Samuel and Ethan and sleeps on Samuel’s bed. I can’t help but think how uncomfortable bedtime is for Samuel with all his toys he refuses to sleep without and Scary Moose to boot. Ethan says to me the other day, “Mommy, Scary Moose gets to fly on airplanes. When we fly on airplanes?” And about a month ago, Ethan and Samuel had to save Scary Moose from the terrible lizard that inhabited our basement. They proceeded to trap the terrible lizard and free Scary Moose.

We try not to engage Scary Moose too much from the adult perspective, because after all, he is pretend and Ethan and Samuel grasp reality. However, just out of curiosity one day, we asked a couple of questions about what Scary Moose looked like. Ethan seemed full of contradictory answers, but Samuel proceeded to describe his big head and upright posture consistently. We figured he was a human being with an overgrown head and lanky figure. But no, none of our images fit the bill when we tried to illustrate the guy. Then one day I was flipping through old cartoons on Netflix to find new entertainment for the boys and Samuel, who was peeking over my shoulder, exclaims, “Look mommy, that’s a picture of Scary Moose!” You wouldn’t believe it, but it was reruns of Rocky and Bullwinkle. Loading this into our Instant Queue, we watched the cartoon and Samuel couldn’t believe there was an entire movie about Scary Moose! Now we had an image, he looks just like Bullwinkle.

Scary Moose has never been blamed for bad behavior, but is often used to negotiate why the boys should be able to do something that haven’t allowed. Just the other day, while we were at my parents’ house, the boys wanted to run out and see the horses. I told them no, that they’d have to wait because I was feeding the babies, grandma was cleaning rooms for her B&B guests, and Papa wasn’t home from work yet. Samuel insists, “But Scary Moose’s mommy is holding his hand and taking him out to see the horses.” I say, “Yes, but Scary Moose’s mommy doesn’t have two babies to take care of right now.” Samuel says, “That’s because Scary Moose’s baby sister is still in his mommy’s belly.” Ohh! Of course.

Recently I was a bit saddened that we’d lose Scary Moose. My grandmother was in the hospital in Sheridan and we went for a visit and to introduce her to the twins. Scary Moose rode along for this three hour, one way, sojourn. After our visit at the hospital with my grandmother, Samuel whispers then says to me, “Mommy, Scary Moose wants to stay here at the hospital.” I responded, “You better tell Scary Moose that if he wants to stay here, it is a very long way back to the Rossi House and I’m not driving back to get him.” Samuel literally steps aside, has a whispered conversation and then reports back to me, “Scary Moose has decided to come home with us.” And so the adventures continue.

Funny how I had a little pinch in my heart that Scary Moose might leave us. I’d miss him, truly. He leaves me in giggles and provides great entertainment for my sons. And with that, I’ll leave you with a poem written by Robert Louis Stevenson, who himself had many imaginary friends as a child.

Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850–1894). A Child’s Garden of Verses and Underwoods. 1913.

The Unseen Playmate

WHEN children are playing alone on the green,
In comes the playmate that never was seen.
When children are happy and lonely and good,
The Friend of the Children comes out of the wood.

Nobody heard him and nobody saw,
His is a picture you never could draw,
But he’s sure to be present, abroad or at home,
When children are happy and playing alone.

He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass,
He sings when you tinkle the musical glass;
Whene’er you are happy and cannot tell why,
The Friend of the Children is sure to be by!

He loves to be little, he hates to be big,
’Tis he that inhabits the caves that you dig;
’Tis he when you play with your soldiers of tin
That sides with the Frenchman and never can win.

’Tis he, when at night you go off to your bed,
Bids you go to your sleep and not trouble your head;
For wherever they’re lying, in cupboard or shelf,
’Tis he will take care of your playthings himself!

Questions, Questions, Questions

Samuel received an amazing book for his birthday this past March called The Children’s Planet Earth Encyclopedia by Jen Green. It has colorful and interesting pictures and extensive, but kid friendly, information about this fantastic sphere we’re all spinning on. Reading about how volatile our planet is with phenomena such as earthquakes, volcanoes and weather patterns coupled with the weeks of rain and flooding we’ve endured have raised a lot of questions from two curious minds. Samuel and Ethan have really taken to this book for stories and I love it because I delight in learning new things as well, being reminded of other topics, and linking ideas together.

However, there was a time when we would read to the boys and they would take it at face value. Now they ask a million questions, challenge our thought processes, and give us lots of chuckles. After one night of reading about Mt. Saint Helens and famous earthquakes around the world our conversation went something like this:

Samuel: Mommy, when the earth shakes does the ground open up?
Me: Well sometimes. Are you thinking of the picture in the book with the big hole in it?
Samuel: Yes. And on the Land Before Time, Littlefoot’s mommy gets hurt in the earthquake after the BIG fight with the T-Rex. Do earthquakes make big holes like that? (Here he looks at the window with a bit of fear in his eyes). Is there going to be an earthquake here and the ground will open up?
Ethan: Is it going to be a BIG hole?
Me: No, there isn’t going to be an earthquake here. (Note to reader – I had to look up South Dakota Earthquake History from the USGS to make sure I wasn't lying.)  We don’t seem to have earthquake problems here. We have tornado problems and volcano problems.
Samuel: Tornado problems? Are we going to be sucked into a tornado? That would be really cool!
Ethan: A big tornado! Yeah, that be weally (really, Ethan speak) cool! Are we going to see hot, hot lafa (lava, Ethan speak)?
Me: No we are not going to have an earthquake, and it would be very bad to be sucked into a tornado. The only volcano we’re really worried about is Yellowstone, and if it blows, we’ll only see ash, lots of it.
Samuel: Where are earthquakes going to happen where the earthquakes open the ground up?
Me: California.
Samuel: Where Mickey Mouse Lives?

Oh no. I see where this conversation is going! Now I have to put myself in a four-year-old’s mind and consider the absolute catastrophe it would be if Mickey Mouse fell into the ocean. This conversation turns into a discussion about how Mickey Mouse is not really REAL, but rather a character which means he’s pretend, or fictional. Boy did that open up a can of worms.

Samuel: Mommy, is Tyrannosaurus Rex real?
Me: He was real, but now he’s dead. All dinosaurs are dead and fossilized.
Samuel: So he’s not real anymore?
Me: Well his bones are real, but he doesn’t live anymore.
Ethan: Is Manny real?
Me: Manny is a character in a movie. So he’s not real. But wooly mammoths were real and they are all dead too.
Ethan: But el-ah-pants (elephants, Ethan speak) are not dead.
Me: No elephants are real, and they are not dead.
Samuel: Is Spiderman real?
Me: No, Spiderman is not real.
Samuel: But he’s a man. A man is real.
Me: Yes, he is man, but he’s a made up man or a character.

The real versus fictional questions arise at least once a day now.

Additionally, not only have the questions started about this fascinating world around them, so have the complicated analyses. Previously, when I would “negotiate” with Samuel it was really one of us saying something along the lines of, “Eat your dinner or no treats later.” No other choices. Now “negotiation” is starting to mean that Samuel thinks through problems and comes up with solutions. Ethan’s a little behind him, and mostly parrots Samuel, but he’s not far behind.

Here is this morning’s conversation between Samuel and me. Before this conversation took place, Peter had been up and down with the babies until 2 am and I had essentially been up since 2:45 am. The ladies still have infections and we are visiting the doctor again on Tuesday. Around 4:15 am I finally had both babies down and it appeared they might stay for a bit. I snuggle into the couch. 4:30 am Samuel is leaning over me and says, “Mommy, I have a bloody nose.” Drip, drip, drip.

Me: Ughh. Okay, I’m getting up. Hold your head back, don’t drip anymore. Go to the bathroom.
Samuel: Okay. The babies are noisy tonight.
Me: Yes, they are. (Ya think?)

We fix the bloody nose.

Me: Go back to bed, it’s too early to be up. Take this tissue in case it starts again.
Samuel: Okay. Good night, mommy. I love you, mommy.
Me: Good night, Samuel.  I love you too.

Samuel climbs up his bunk, I return to the couch and snuggle under again. I feel the fog closing in and then I hear an electronic “rrraaarrrr…” I think – hmmm, Samuel must have rolled over on Spinosaurus. “Rrrrrarrrr…” Okay…twice?? I climb off the couch again. “Rrrararrr…”

Me: Samuel, it is 4:30 in the morning. You have to put Spinosaurus away.
Samuel: But why?
Me: Because it is early, you should be sleeping, and you’ll wake everyone else up (thinking, please, please don’t wake up babies). You can’t play with it. Give it to me.
Samuel: Okay.
Me: Now go back to sleep. It’s too early to be awake.
Samuel: But the birds are awake…

And sure enough…cheep, cheep, cheep, tweet, tweet. They were.

Night on the Town

Peter and I were able to go on a date this past Friday, thank you Jen and Bryce! We’ve had lots of offers to babysit our four children since our daughters entered the world, but then I feel this sense of guilt at leaving four children four and under with anyone and I can’t seem to make myself do it. It’s not that I don’t love and trust these brave souls, but I realize the all-encompassing work it requires to tend to the needs of these four children, particularly the twins. It’s especially difficult now that Nina and Jocelyn are going through a separation anxiety stage. I can’t even leave the room to refill my cup of Joe without one of them completely flipping out at the realization that I have disappeared from sight. I also know how draining the kids can be, because I get to look in the mirror every morning and think – oh my. When did those swollen eyes show up? I really do need a haircut. Is that another wrinkle around my eye?!

It’s truly chaos most of the time if you aren’t used to it. It’s my life, so it seems natural to me, but everyone else looks at me doing the grand juggle and I see the sheer panic in their eyes. Recently I had a play date with a fellow friend while Samuel was at school, which means I was at 75% motherhood responsibility for about 2.5 hours. This pal has two children that are nicely spaced out so one is in school full time and the other plays somewhat regularly with Ethan. She looked at me and said, “It is rather hard to focus and a hold conversation at your house.” Why I wonder? Ha! Every parent knows that adult conversations, if children are present, are littered with interruptions. The interruptions increase exponentially as the number of children increase. “Excuse me mom! Excuse me mom! EXCUSE ME MOM! My T-Rex just ate Buzz!” Such a terror requires the appropriate response. “OH MY GOD! Get Buzz out of T-Rex’s mouth!!”

Peter and I went on this date and we looked at each other and thought – wow. Do you hear that? Silence. We’ve had nights where someone took the boys and we went out together, but the girls stayed with us. Last summer, when I was pregnant with the girls we would leave the boys with my parents to make our regular trips to Sioux Falls. The reality of those nights alone boiled down to how could I look at anyone and feel wild and sexy and carefree when I was 23 + weeks pregnant with twins and just sat in a car for 6 hours across one of the least scenic places in the universe? For those of you who haven’t traveled I-90 across South Dakota, highlights include 1880 town, lots of road kill Chinese ring-necked pheasants, corn field after soy bean field after corn field, and crossing the Missouri River where being from land-locked states we must all say, “Dang – that’s a lot of water!"

Whew - back to our date night. In preparation for this date night, the girls were woken from their naps early and I had to do serious battle to get shoe and jacket commitment from Samuel and Ethan. I wondered the whole time I was getting ready if I could still pull off heals and thought, “Ugg. This is so painful for my feet, my heart and my ears, is it worth it?” The result of the short nap was that Nina and Jocelyn screamed the whole way to Jen and Bryce’s house and continued their ear pollution as I walked out their door mumbling, “Like a Band-Aid, like a Band-Aid” per Jen’s suggestion. Then 20 minutes later, I looked at Peter across the table and several miraculous things happened. The first is that I realized I do have two hands to eat with. At this point, I’m so excited I want to hold my glass of wine in one hand, my fork with the other, start to guzzle and stuff away. Next, I realize as I put savory bite after savory bite into my mouth that my food is warm. Fish and steak do taste much better at this temperature! I also notice that no one is screaming, “MOMMY!” and neither of us are negotiating a major treaty to convince our boys to eat…something.

All the parenting books, blogs, websites and so on say that one of the number one things to do as a parent is to take care of yourself and your marriage….you know…a happy mom is a good mom. But these sweet little books and websites usually seem to assume you are either on your first baby or that Mother Nature or God never involved themselves in your reproductive life and your children are spaced exactly at 2.5 years. These magical age separations often mean that your oldest is potentially close to important life skills like cutting their own food, grasping the concept of a napkin versus a shirt sleeve, buttoning their own pants, and agreeing that jelly beans are not one of the major food groups. These life skills add up to important things like easier babysitting, less worry for moms and dads, and communication skills for all parties involved.

All in all it was a fabulous dinner. We lingered over our beverages, savored our food, laughed at the foibles of our children, and missed them terribly. Then we played a few slots, won nothing, and returned home guilt free. What I learned though is that I’ll take all of you up on those offers and our munchkins will be coming to your house next. I figure if I can do it every day for 10 hours while Peter is out of the house, my brilliant friends could handle anything for 3 hours, even if the four of them scream the whole time!

Red Works

Good stuff came out of Mother’s Day weekend. Peter scored big points when he came home from Rapid City lugging a big ol' outdoor carpet for my back deck that I’ve been dreaming of for years. We essentially live in the yard after Memorial Day and I just wanted that extra touch to our outdoor space. Happy Mother’s Day to me! Sounds lame I know – Hey so and so, what did you get for Mother’s day? Answer - Why I got this lovely pearl pendant! Sabrina, what did you get for Mother’s Day? Answer – I got a RUG! Woo-hoo! And it is perfect and exactly what I wanted.

Our girls, also essentially sick since January with this indescribable nasty sinus thing and two ear infections, were diagnosed with chronic sinus infections. This super surprise rounded out with a 21-day dose of antibiotics. The directions on this new antibiotic indicate that one should not take any iron containing products 2 hours prior or 2 hours after ingestion of this drug. RRIGGHHT.

The patients here are two 8-month old babies on iron supplemented formula and you don’t want me to feed them milk for 4 hours at two different times of the day for TWENTY-ONE DAYS!? Upon calling the pharmacist and doctor, it was decided that this really is the best medicine for them since the amoxicillin did nothing for them and the augmentin just ate their guts and made them soil their diapers every 20 minutes for 10 days. 30 tubes of butt paste later, we’re all healed up from that debacle and headed down antibiotic lane again. Anyway…back to the non-iron junk. The caution, per the pharmacist, is that it does cause some absorbency issues and I’m just supposed to watch for effectiveness. Meaning if Peter and I ever get a decent night of sleep in the next century again, then the meds are working. The secondary caution is that such products mixed with this drug make their bowel movements red. I mean RED folks. Or maybe it tilts toward hot pink? This is all great and wonderful, because who really cares if their poo is pink or red or magenta or candy apple. They don’t have diaper rash any longer and they’re going to get better, right? I can deal with any red, blue or green hue you throw at me.

After the girls bath the other night, I laid them on their bedroom floor and was dressing Nina first. Meanwhile, Jocelyn crawled her naked derriere over to the Leap Frog table and started pounding keys. Those legs started wiggling, the woops and he-haws started flying out of her mouth. It looked like she was really doing a groove and she was giggling, jiving, shaking that booty and having such a great time in the nude, I thought, “I’ve got to catch this on film!”

I take off at lightning speed, return to the room, camera in hand, and pat myself on my back that I caught her still in Elvis Presley action. As I start recording her I realize that between her feet, on our light beige carpet, is a petite, Jocelyn-sized pile of magenta. As this is all sinking in to my sleep deprived brain and I’m saying, “No! No! Jocelyn!” she continues to groove and starts stepping in it and splashing it up and down her legs, through her toes and up the Leap Frog table. Down goes the camcorder. Forgetting to turn the camera off, I now have a great memory on tape of Jocelyn dancing in her hot pink poo and then 34-minutes of carpet with background noise including the re-bathing process, the diapering and changing, and then Samuel crying, “Mommy, I touched something I shouldn’t have!” as he shows me his hands covered in black paint. And since it’s an old school camera, and I’m too lazy to figure it all out, the memories and 34 minute carpet scene shall remain, including discussion of what exactly Samuel got into.

All in all however, we are 10 days into the meds and they are not working. The girls cough and hack and run snot, so they are not sleeping through the night.  Therefore, neither are we.  I talked to the doctor again today and they’ve decided to pull them off of the antibiotics to save their little intestines and we’ll revisit on Monday. So it goes, so it goes.

May you all have scored on Mother’s Day too – whatever your pleasure may be. The night Peter brought home my rug, we had a nice fire in the chiminea, roasted some marshmallows with the boys and drank a bottle of wine. A toast - here’s to you my boogie girls, perhaps you just have a dysfunctional nose like your father? In the meantime we’ll continue to spread our slimy noses around and hope for the best.

Up Next, Win the Lottery

Well it has been a while since I’ve posted, and it isn’t because of being so busy with four tiny children that I can’t see straight. Though that would be a believable excuse to the masses who think we’re crazy. And it isn’t because I’ve had the dreaded case of writer’s block. Everyone who knows me recognizes one of my strengths and my flaws is my ability to always communicate and have an opinion or pondering on something and mostly everything. And there is certainly a lot going on from day to day to chuckle at and share. My inactivity on my blog is more due to an analysis of how much of my life I REALLY want to disclose to the nebulous cyberspace. It will, after all, be around in some archive FOREVER.

See, something that takes your breath away and makes you evaluate your life with a microscope happened to Peter and I. After much contemplation, emotional upheaval and a few discussions with friends, I’ve decided to tell all. I’ve also read that great bloggers speak to the keyboard as if they are having a chat with their sister. I don’t have a sister, only two equally strong-willed brothers, but I’ll give it my best shot.

The short of it is that it turns out that Peter and I can reproduce nearly as well as the Duggars. You know. Those people with like 50 children?

About 4 days after the little ladies joined our lives, Peter visited the urologist and had any necessary plumbing for further procreation snipped. 2 tests later, 6 months later we thought we were good to go. Turns out, we weren’t. While Peter was in Connecticut in March, I was watching Lost reruns after all our angels were in bed. During Lost Sun takes a pregnancy test. As I was sipping my beer witnessing her revelation, I thought, “Hmm….that’s weird…it should be about that time for me.” Sure enough, examination of the calendar disclosed it was definitely time. Past time. A pregnancy test the next day agreed with my calendar.

WHAT!!! How could this happen?! I was shocked, angry, happy, sobbing, everything. Peter and I always said we would take whatever babies were given to us, but after the debacle we went through bringing our girls into the world, we weren’t ready for another episode of “See How Fast the Rossis Can Run.” And yet, through it all Peter was amazing. This crazy man with his over the top OCD, meticulous planning and organized life really rolled with the punches. He made it all okay. He held me and said, “Let’s make room for baby #5!” and he tore into our basement with gusto. Down came the rock wall, out went the old pellet stove and up went the new sheetrock and a new door.

During this pregnancy, while Peter was determinedly holding the world up on his own shoulders, and I was coming to terms with more chaos, I knew something wasn’t right. The whole pregnancy felt different. I know what pregnant feels like. At about eight or nine weeks, at my first checkup, I was miscarrying. I’d never miscarried before, so this was a new experience. Terrifying, heart breaking, and suffering such loss when you didn’t really know what you had. I found myself in surgery the very next morning. I lost Rossi baby number five on April 5th, or at least that is when I was under anesthesia. We had tentative names picked out and a new room in progress, but time marches on and there is certainly little time for a mother of four to be down and out.

It’s been an absolutely wild emotional roller coaster. After all was said and done, we found ourselves contemplating many important questions, such as “How much wine should parents be allowed to consume to work through these issues while still being responsible for their other children?”

In all seriousness, Peter says these memories will make us stronger. And this memory definitely has already. It made our marriage stronger. As good as Peter was through it all, it reinforced a truth that I already know. Peter is a good man, a strong man, and I love this man. An appreciation for life was reignited and we laugh a little more at the silly things. Some other really great things came out of this detour in our life. While we know it in our hearts, we really realized that there is so much love that surrounds us. My family was fabulous. My parents showed up with steaks and wine and said, “Let’s celebrate life!” And we did. My brothers called and we had a good chuckle. My friends were incredible and they brought dinner, fruit, chocolate, flowers, an ear and lots of laughter. We even started the remodeling project on the basement that we've been wanting to do for 3 years!

It hits me below the belt every once in a while. It’s only been about 4 weeks and I’m not quite over the shock, but I look at my four beautiful children and I think, this is really it. These are the gifts I’ve been given and I’m going to be the best mom I can be.

Oh, and Peter and I are playing the lottery these days. Just imagine the odds we’ve overcome! 3 in 1000 pregnancies ends up with identical twins, and the chances of having a vasectomy fail at 6 months? Having these two events happen to the same people, back to back? Who knows the odds, but maybe, just maybe we’ll continue to overcome such wild statistics.