A+

This is baby A. My baby A. Born nearly 14 weeks early.

The morning I found out that the attempts to stop my preterm labor had failed and I was about to deliver, one of the nurses said to me, "You know, my neighbor's daughter was born this early and now she's in high school and she is SMART."

Apparently this was meant to assuage my fears that my premature babies would be stupid...the thing is, I was too busy worrying about whether they were going to live to have considered that maybe even if they did live, they weren't likely to be very smart. (Is that even statistically true? I have no idea.)

I was reminded of this today when we got the boys' scores back from the EXPLORE test, which is like the middle school equivalent of the ACT. It's an optional test that gifted kids can take to learn more about their strengths.

So yes, we already know they're gifted and they both scored higher than the average 8th grader (they are 4th graders), but when I saw Aidan's results I almost cried. (I cried, with joy) The kid scored in the 100th percentile for English usage/mechanics. 100th percentile means no one scored better than he did.

I want to go hang up his test results in the NICU so that all those other moms and dads who are so worried for their tiny babies can at least cross one fear off their lists.

(I know I owe you a recipe. I will make it up to you!)

Preparations

I am preparing for a 4-day weekend of single parenting. Well, no, it's not a 4-day weekend for ME, just for everyone else. My husband is headed to Atlanta and my kids will hang out with grandma while I'm working.

It will all be fine, of course, but knowing that I'm headed for single parenting always sends me into a survivalist state of mind. I feel like I need to stock up on supplies and prepare for all possibilities. I think it's an anxiety left over from when my husband used to have to travel for work nearly every week and the boys were young enough that leaving the house with them alone was actually a daunting task. I basically just want the three of us to cuddle up under a blanket until things return to normal.

Unfortunately, the boys have other plans, so rather than cuddling, I'll be managing logistics and transportation for their busy social lives. Sigh.

More tomorrow.

Snow Day!

No school today thanks to all of this lovely snow. And I mean that un-sarcastically - it really is lovely...especially because I didn't have to drive in it.

The boys were psychotically excited. The kind of excitement where I fear one them will run directly into a wall or that they will smash their heads together while jumping around screaming for joy. 

I get it, of course. Snow days are the best. And in my mind, you must go sledding on a snow day...and so began the many hours-long quest to sled. 

First, we apparently lost our sleds. How this is possible, I'm really not sure. How does one lose a sled? It's not like I stuck it in a closet and forgot about it...it's not like you just leave the sledding hill without your sled...it has to be in the garage somewhere. But it's not. And that's just the sled I can remember us owning. I feel like we should own at least two sleds...right?

Ok, so my husband had to head into work anyway to deal with the deposit, so we figured he could get some sleds. The good news is, he got to work and then made it to Target without getting stuck in a snowbank. The bad news is that Target apparently clearanced out its sleds weeks ago (I didn't pay attention because we own a sled!).

Thankfully, the local hardware store still had sleds. Hallelujah.

Next up was my snowpants. As in, I know I own a nice pair from back when I used to snowboard (not like, really used to snowboard, but like tried to snowboard while on vacation with my dad during college). We (read: my husband, who dug through the crawl space) found the snowboard and boots, but no snowpants. 

Repeat that process for my nice ski gloves (only we found nothing in that case...) and you can see why I've arrived at the theory that maybe I've been sleep sledding and my snowpants and gloves are with the missing sled somewhere in the woods. Seriously, it's March...how have I not needed a sled, snowpants, or ski gloves this entire winter?

But finally, finally, finally, after my husband spent hours on this pursuit while I worked (thanks, honey!), we were all bundled and out the door to sled. Hooray! This is where I wanted to show you a beautiful photo of the snow coming down while the smiling children flew down the hill...only my phone died as soon as we got there (sad face) and only one of the children was smiling, while the other was frustrated to tears by the fact that no matter how he approached it, he could not get his sled to go off the jump...it was like they were magnetic poles repelling each other (there is likely a more scientifically accurate and articulate way of saying that, but I do not know the proper terms). It would have been hilarious, had it not caused so much screaming and crying. 

And so I sit, drinking my last white Christmas beer of the year (I'm giving up buying beer that has gluten, but this is still leftover from our holiday party in December) and thinking how happy I am that it is not, in fact, Christmas and that this snow is going to melt in a matter of days (probably) and that spring is just around the corner...it's just a very large corner.