Hi everybody. Um, this is Asker. Mom said I could tell you guys all about the physics lesson she gave us last night.
First, we put a chicken in a glass baking dish. Then, we put it in the oven and let it cook for about a half hour. Then we took it out to add the vegetables. Mom always does this. But this time, she used frozen carrots instead of fresh ones and guess what?
The glass exploded! Cool!
I told her we should have been wearing safety glasses, but then I recognized that look and went running.
Isn't homeschooling fun?
Oh, and she said if you have any comments like, "Duh!" or "Um, yeah that happens" to go suck an egg. I told her that wasn't very nice, but then I got that look again.
Showing posts with label Mommy Screams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mommy Screams. Show all posts
Thursday, May 01, 2008
I Saved The Chicken and That's All That Matters
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Given The Choice, I'd Rather Clean Vomit
"Mom, what awe those bubbles on the floow?"
"It's carpet cleaner, Toots."
"Why awe you cweaning the cawpet?"
"Well, last night, Asker had a diarrhea accident. I cleaned it up then, but I need to clean it a little bit more."
"Hmmmm. If I had an accident, would you cwean my cawpet?"
"Of course, honey. Accidents happen, it's okay when they do."
Toots disappears.
You know where this is going.
"MOM. I peed on my cawpet!!"
Monday, March 10, 2008
Fakers
We spent Saturday in Baltimore at a nephew's baptism. The weather was lovely, the baptism was moving, the family was wonderful.
And the fake tans were alarming. Can someone please explain to me the need for obviously artificially dark skin in March?
Dave's step-sisters are Greek and they have naturally beautiful bronze skin. Even in the middle of winter they are dark and lovely. But some of their friends were just plain scary!
I don't think this color looks good even on a toned, bikini-clad body in July. But on an average chick's body, with boots, jeans and a bulky sweater, it causes double-takes. And not the good kind.
I spent a few minutes observing the couple of ladies who were sporting the orange, and I walked away a bit sad.
Both of the ladies are beautiful. Both have lovely smiles and pretty features. But their natural loveliness was overwhelmed by the heavy makeup, bleached blond hair and fake tans.
As the mother of a young daughter, I feel such a sense of anger that society constantly tells our girls that they must look a certain way to have value. Between the highly sexualized role-models, the constant imagery in ads of all sorts and the incredibly grown-up clothing marketed towards toddlers, it seems like our girls are fighting an uphill battle from day one. I don't allow Barbies for that very reason (that and I don't want the boys playing with b00bs).
I left the gathering with a renewed sense of urgency to remind Toots that her attitude, her smile, her kindness, her faith and her mind are what makes her beautiful.
In defense of those two ladies, I don't know them at all. They may be self-confident geniuses.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Scrolling Saturday: Little Helpers
Originally posted in November 2006......
Am I the only mom in the world who groans inwardly when she hears the words, "Mom, can I help?" We spent the last 3 days replacing windows, painting walls and laying new carpet. Actually, Dave did most of the work and I ran around fixing what the "helpers" had so lovingly screwed up.
I actually like home improvement. Dave calls me Bob (as in Villa) when we are doing projects. When we only had one baby, we would put him to bed and work on whatever for hours. Now, we're too exhausted after they go to bed, so we do most of our work during the day. The problem is, they are awake.
Now don't get me wrong, I want to encourage our kids to be hard workers. I love that they are so enthusiastic about helping. And I never let them see my frustrations (well, perhaps not never). But, really, have you ever tried to paint with a 5 yr old, 3 yr old and 21 month old?
Yesterday, we were repainting Asker's room. The carpet was being replaced anyway, so I said "Sure, you guys can help." Little did I realize, this help would amount to quarter sized paint spots on the baby's head, Toots making paint footprints on the old carpet, Asker practicing his karate moves with the paint brush on the wall (resulting in major drips), and a return trip to Lowe's to buy another pint of paint to replace the pint on elbows, fingers, toes and bellies. OK, we really didn't have to buy more paint, but you get my point.
I know some of you are thinking, why is she buying new stuff if Dr. Destructo and the Break-It Gang are around? Glad you asked. We are creating the allusion of a well-maintained house in order to sell it and buy a new one, whereby we can fill the new house with new stuff for Dr. Destructo to destroy.
Now Asker is actually the right age to help with home improvement. He can get tools for daddy and is learning a lot in the process. He usually lasts for 30 minute spurts, but he's helpful when he's attentive. Toots, God bless her, is just not there yet.
Typical interaction:
Daddy: Toots, go upstairs and get Daddy's hammer for banging nails.
Toots: Is it yellow?
Daddy: No, Toots, it's black. It's on Mommy's dresser. Go get it and bring it to Daddy.
Toots: OK, daddy.
waiting, waiting
Toots: I'm coming daddy, I'm so bigger!
Daddy: Oh, thank you Toots. This is a nice bra. I'll be right back.
I do like the kids to help me in the kitchen. We practice counting while we are scooping ingredients. We talk about food groups and what is good for our body. The 2 eldest are actually pretty good at breaking eggs. Even little Clam can stir pretty well. But there are those days when I just don't want the help. Like when I'm trying to make a nice dinner and all 3 are hovering within 8 inches of me. One has dirty hands, one is picking her nose and the last is coughing all over. I just don't want the help at those times. That's what DVD players are for, right?
We are trying to incorporate chores into our children's lives. The way I figure it, I give to them for five or six years and if I train them right, I'll have some little slaves for the next ten!
I read an article by a woman who had 14 kids. She was writing about how she only cooked one meal a day, and never changed diapers, did laundry or dishes. She had the older kids do it all. That sounded great. Never do laundry or dishes? Only cook once a day? Of course, the article went on to state that the one meal a day she cooked was on the hot plate in her state asylum room.
I guess I'll just stick with my 3 and keep encouraging their servant's attitudes. Right now, though, I need to paint over Toot's "decorations" she so lovingly added to her new walls.
For more Scrolling Saturdays, visit here.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
March Is Not Spring
So, apparently, I'm not just an ad-free blog, I'm a post-free blog.
What is it about February that just makes everything blah? My mind's dry, my temper's short, my patience is thin and I feel a strange urge to cry.
Oh, spring, how I need you.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Now I Feel Better
After a frustrating morning of screaming baby, I decided to go take a break on my bed and gather my thoughts (and temper).
Because my kids cannot possibly function for more than 30 seconds without my presence, I was soon surrounded.
"What's wrong, Mommy?"
"I'm just frustrated with Superboy and angry with myself for yelling at you guys. I'm just taking a break."
"Oh."
"Asker, do you think I'm a good mommy?"
"Yes, you're the best. But you do have a bad attitude sometimes."
"I know, honey. I'm trying to get better."
"Mom?"
"What, bud?"
"I already reminded you about your attitude another day. Maybe you need to write it down."
Shut up, Dave.
Haiku Lament
Thursday, January 31, 2008
What, Exactly, Is The Promise?
Many years ago, I signed up for Upromise. It's been at least 2 years since I accessed the account, so I signed in today anticipating a huge balance.
Woo-hoo, a whopping $20.46. After 4 years of shopping, that's how much I have accumulated. Let's see that's approximately $5.11 per child.
Man, I guess we're going to have to start college funds after all.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
The Dog & I Finally Have Something In Common
I'm shedding.
It's one of those things that comes with having babies that they don't tell you about ahead of time. Like the first time you do-the-deed after giving birth and your ladies squirt all over your husband? Yeah, kinda' would have liked to have known that ahead of time.
So my hair is falling out in clumps. I find it everywhere. I've found hair in the fridge, in the fish tank, in Superboy's diaper, and in dinner. And every single time I go pee? There's hair in my crack. You needed to know that.
The problem is, my hair is long. Really long. I just cut off 6 inches, and Dave didn't even notice. OK, that could probably be said of any man and any amount of hair, but 6 inches!
I'm cleaning out my brush two times a week. The hair has been so compacted, I practically have to cut it out. I'm thinking about leaving them in various places in the backyard so, come spring, the birds won't even have to build nests.
I learned my lesson after the last few sheds and I no longer try to flush it down the shower drain. So I've been putting it on the shower wall until I get out and can throw it in the trash.
This is one shower's worth.
Totally gross, I know.
But it makes a nice art medium. I've been working on some abstracts. Observe
See it?
I swear I am losing so much hair. I am convinced that any day now when I look in the mirror for the first time (usually around 5pm when I am expecting Dave) this is what I will see...
And you always wondered what I would look like with a combover.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Something New Every Day
I learned something today.
You should always keep a nice stock of adult toothpaste on hand.
Because bubble-gum toothpaste?
It's just wrong.
Friday, December 28, 2007
I Got Your Two Ends At Once Beat
I have officially scarred Dave for life.
I was out for a few hours today with Superboy. On the way home, I got a terrible headache and it started to make me really nauseous. About 10 minutes from home the baby started screaming to be fed. Then I started getting some rumblings. Can you see where this is going?
I rushed in the door, put the car seat on the ground and ran to the bathroom. After puking out half my guts, I felt well enough to grab the baby and nurse him while I took care of the rumblings.
A minute later, I heard Dave walk in the door. Being a bit claustrophobic, I don't ever shut the door to the powder room. And just as he peeked in to ask me a question, the vomit hit again.
Yeah, I was pooping, nursing the baby and vomiting (over the baby on the rug) at the same time.
He was momentarily torn between helping and bolting. The latter won.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
There's Not Much Left To Hold Over His Head
When I read Casey's diatribe about her husband yesterday, I just had to laugh. Dave, too, is an incredibly aggressive driver. He rides on peoples' bumpers. He doesn't check his blind spots. He treats every trip, one mile or one-hundred miles, as if it were the Daytona 500. Heck, he even got two speeding tickets in one day a long time ago. And for nine wonderful years I have been able to remind him of this every single time we ride together (and believe me, I did). But, alas, those days are gone. Yesterday, my a** was toast.
The first time I got a speeding ticket was the day I turned 19. In the thirteen years since then, I have talked my way out of far too many tickets and received my fair share of warnings. I've used a Southern accent (more effective in the North), a valley girl approach (totally floors those Carolina officers) and even talked my way out of a ticket at 2am when I was driving with no lights on. I've been pulled over while pregnant and with screaming babies. It's amazing how fast an officer can issue a verbal warning when competing with a livid 1 year old.
So yesterday, when I was pulled over for doing 45 in a 30, I didn't sweat a drop. But as I fished for my license and registration; my mind blanked. I couldn't think of one good excuse. I tried pulling the paci out of Superboy's mouth to get him to start screaming, but for the first time in 4 months, he was quiet in his carseat. The kids wouldn't start wailing, even when I told them I might have to go to jail.
But when the officer poked his head in my window and gave me the "Good evening ma'am," all I could think of was how incredibly young he looked. When he asked me if I had a good reason for speeding, I was too busy contemplating how a 32 year old woman with 4 kids in a clothes-books-and-lollipop wrapper-strewn Suburban could possibly sway a 17 year old and I came up with...nothing. No accents, no half-truths, no puppy dog eyes.
The funny thing was, I wasn't even upset. I knew I deserved the ticket, and I felt better playing it honestly. As we drove off, the kids and I started talking about the importance of obeying the rules and having integrity. We called Dave to let him know about the ticket.
His reaction?
"I'm SO happy!!!"
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
And Now I Understand The Cons
I tore my baby's skin today.
On purpose.
It was horrible.
After a few discussions and much research, we decided early into my first pregnancy to have Asker circumcised. I was present for the surgery, and truthfully found it to be rather interesting.
Perhaps it was because I hadn't really bonded with him yet and he seemed like a stranger instead of my child, or perhaps it was because the pain of my first childbirth was still so real; whatever the reason, I was able to detach from the screaming baby and just observe. He healed within a few days and -voila- perfect little package.
Clam was born at home and I scheduled his circumcision with a highly renowned surgeon. He is also a Mohel, so he does tons of these things. I was not allowed to be present during the surgery, but it was super fast and done right in the doctor's office. He, too, healed quickly and another perfect pickle.
This time was different.
I kept putting off making Superboy's appointment after he was born. Our insurance changed, and then the pediatrician took forever to write the referral. But, I was in no rush. I bonded right away with this little guy, and the doubts I had always had about circumcising started pushing their way into my head.
I've done the research. I know the pros, cons and all the arguments. We had chosen to circ for one simple reason; we wanted the boys to look like Daddy. But the older Superboy got, the less I wanted to go through with the surgery. Finally, after several smart-ass sweet reminders from Dave; I scheduled the appointment for last Thursday..
I used the same surgeon. Again he was done within minutes. He gave me the same post-op instructions, and I followed them the same way. At least I thought I did. But it's almost Christmas and we've been so busy. Maybe I wasn't putting enough Bacitracin on during every single diaper change. Maybe I wasn't pulling on the skin to keep it loose often enough. Maybe I didn't pay close enough attention to the doc's instructions. Maybe one day being a mom will not include second-guessing. Maybe not.
Yesterday I noticed an adhesion. Yeah. One of those.
I guess I didn't do quite enough research. I didn't realize how common these are with circumcisions. They happen a lot. One of my friends told me all four of her sons had adhesions after circumcision.
I called the surgeon's office and was told to gently separate the skin.
I tried. Didn't happen.
So, I was told to soften the skin with a bath and pull. Not so gently if necessary.
I gave him a long bath. I took a deep breath and pulled.
It ripped.
Superboy took a quick breath and jerked his limbs in that way newborns do. But he didn't cry.
I did.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Next Year, I'm Going To Costco
I love getting photo Christmas cards. I love seeing my nieces and nephews in Santa hats or jumping in leaf piles or wrapped in paper and bows. I like keeping up with friends from college or old neighbors even if it is from afar. And it seems like just about every store has a convenient and cheap way to make photo cards for cheap. Why, oh why, couldn't I have just done that?
I have an obsession with making my own cards. I like the feel of card stock in my hands, so I always buy blank stock and create a little masterpiece. Or at least that's the plan. Somehow, they always ends up like my gingerbread house; slightly off-centered and crumbly. But, I'm a glutton for pain so this year I'm at it again.
I spent roughly 4 days GIMPing the picture I chose (read: poor man's Photoshop). After finally getting it just the way I liked it, I hit the print button and we were off. Offline, that is. The stupid printer would not feed my paper. So I had to hand feed each and every one of my 75 cards. Two sides. My hands were so numb after two hours that I couldn't even snap Superboy's diaper on (prefold cloth). I just wrapped it in a cover and hoped it didn't leak.
The cards looked pretty nice, but I decided to stamp one and let the kids add some glitter just for the heck of it. Darn if it didn't look a lot better. So, guess what I've been doing all night? 74 more and I'm finally done. Thankfully, tonight I changed the baby before I started working.
This year I got started relatively early. I can take my time folding them and getting them sent. But 2005, I was down to the wire. I had a relatively simple black and white design and waited until the week of Christmas to start printing when the printer completely stopped working. It started making a furious squeak and wouldn't feed the cards through. I'm thinkin' I need to stop buying printers from Goodwill. Anyway, I was bound and determined to fix the stupid printer myself. (It's this weird Bob Villa complex I've got). I took the entire printer apart, cleaned it and put it back together. At least I started to, but before it was complete I had to do some Mommy stuff. When I got back into the room, all the neatly lined up parts were in a nice pile. Gotta' love little helpers! So, it took me about 4 hours and 71 attempts before it worked again. But, the cards were printed and mailed by the next evening.
2004 was the worst year of my card making chaos. Instead of just printing the entire card, I was printing the caption, gluing the picture and hand drawing snowflakes on every card. I had a colorful caption designed, so I pulled out my old Epson inkjet color printer. Just that word inkjet is painful, eh? It printed soooooooooooooooo s l o w l y. And anyone who has ever had an Epson inkjet knows that they clog. And clog some more. And especially clog when you yell at them. After hours of working to unclog the nozzles and hours more of waiting for each ..............individual......................single.....................lone................line to print;I ran out of ink.
All I can say is you will never be getting colored Christmas cards from me again. At least not until I make another trip to Goodwill for a new color printer.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
If I Hear Karen Carpenter Sing "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" One More Time, I'm Going To Pop My Own Ear Drums.
It's not even December yet. How can I be sick of Christmas music already? The kids keep asking for Christmas music, and since it's such a nice change from the Muppet Show cd with which they are currently obsessed (Miss Piggy is almost as bad as Karen Carpenter), I agree. Then, two songs later, I am going crazy. But I have to admit, the Grinch song is so cool!
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Let's Not Even Bring Up The Car Keys
Dave is an amazing fella. He remodeled our house from top to bottom. He's earned the nickname of MacGyver at work because he can rig anything from anything. He is phenomenal with the kids, and his incredible charisma makes up for my complete lack. But, the man cannot remember anything. Between you and me, I think he spent a few too many years worshipping at the church of Latter Saint Days. In other words, he and Lucy spent too much time in the Sky with Diamonds.
My previously notated declining faculties can be easily blamed on kids. Before kids, I was the woman with the perfect memory. Now, I only remember really unimportant things: how many years/months/weeks/days old each child was at every vital milestone, every wrong ever done to me by significant others, the exact verbage of every argument. Come to think of it, those are the really important things after all!
But Dave's memory problems have existed as long as I have known him. Our first year of marriage, I would send him to the grocery store with a verbal list. Bread, milk and butter. He would usually get 2 out of 3 and then add in a few things like ice cream, candy, soda, etc.. I just figured he was so excited by the prospect of processed sugar actually existing in our house that he forgot the other stuff.
So I started making lists for him. I like things short and sweet. If you ask me for directions, I will give you the address and where to turn. Landmarks are unnecessary and distracting. So, my lists were like so: Bread, milk and butter. Problem solved? Not quite. It seems that Dave really likes the landmarks. He'd return with rolls, milk and margarine. And ice cream, candy and soda.
Now, at this point, you're probably wondering why I don't just get off my butt and go to the store myself. Well, first of all, I hate shopping. I despise shopping. I go once a month and try to stretch it to six weeks when possible. I have my dairy and eggs delivered and buy 3-4 months of meat at a time. Secondly, going to the store requires putting on a bra. I am simply not willing to wear a bra on any day other than Sunday. Thelma and Louise were just not meant to be restrained. I didn't realize how apparent this was until a few months ago Asker was pretending to wear my bra (usually flung right inside the front door. Or, if a really bad day, the passenger seat). He walked through the doorway, threw the bra aside and said, "FREEDOM!!" The impression was uncanny. I do go bra-less as much as possible, but I'm nursing still and that's just not a good combination.
One evening last week, I took Superboy on my monthly shopping trip. I knew I was going to keep him in the wrap to keep my hands free, so I passed on wearing a bra. After 2 hours in the store, I was absolutely sweating. By the time I got to the register, he was getting fussy, so I took him out and folded up my wrap. Completely forgot about the whole breast leakage thing. After a few dirty looks from old women, and obvious dirty thoughts from old men, I looked down to see two big wet spots on my shirt. Fabulous.
That reminds me of the time that I was in Walmart with my sister. Toots was a newborn and Asker was 19 months old. It was July and I was wearing a tank top (bra-less, of course). I was holding Toots in one arm and Asker in the other. He reached up and pulled down my top. I had no free hands and I was laughing so hard that it was a full minute before my sister turned around and covered me. She was horrified, the man next to me was incredibly grateful and I couldn't stop laughing. But I digress.
So, realizing the simple lists weren't working, I started making a 5 column list. I am not kidding. The first column would be the quantity. The second column the item description. Third column would be the actual item name/brand. Fourth column was expected price and the fifth column indicated if there was an accompanying coupon. OK, I have to admit, I really liked making those lists. And I REALLY liked checking the receipt to see if said list was followed exactly. There is such a mean librarian lurking inside me.
A few days ago, Dave said he was going to run to the store for some Coke. I had a coupon for canned veggies which happened to be on sale. I knew the sale was over that evening, so I made a quick list.
Actual transcription of said list:
4 fridge-packs Coke Buy one get one free/$9.98 No coupon
1 fridge-pack Dr. Pepper Free with Coke purchase No coupon
12 peas/corn/carrots, etc. Del Monte On sale for 5/$2 Yes
try to get N0 Sugar/Salt added
not the "sweet" peas-they just have added sugar
He walked in the door with the soda and one can of Sweet Peas.
"Where are the other cans?"
"I'm not carrying 24 cans of peas in here."
"24 cans? 24? I wrote down 12. Did you get any corn? Or carrots?...Let me see the receipt."
Actual transcription of receipt:
Sprite
Sprite
Sprite
Sprite
Dr. Pepper
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
DM Sweet Peas
Ice Cream
Ice Cream
Obviously, we still have a ways to go.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Attention Budget Busters
The Price of Oil is Through the Roof. Do You Want to Beat High Winter Heating Costs? I Can Show You How in Three EASY Steps!!!
Step 1. Ensure poor sleeping habits in your children. The sooner they crawl into bed with you, the sooner your savings begin!
Step 2. Keep one sick child on hand at all times. A mid-grade fever works best. *
Step 3. Place fever-laden child in the middle of the bed. Place other children around him/her. Place one heat absorbing adult on each end of the bed.
That's it! Your body temperatures will rise to approximately 107 degrees F virtually ensuring you can turn off your furnace at night. By decreasing your need for fossil fuels and electricity, you can reduce your heating costs and save the planet at the same time! Act now before cold and flu season is over.
Try the daytime budget beater. Gather on the couch with sick child on parent's lap. Place a heavy blanket over entire family. Surround with books and voila, instant internal boilage!
* Also try the Superbug and Staph varieties.
Intermittent tossing and turning will help speed heat distribution. Limbs flung over end unit' bodies may result in searing heat. Please be aware that the abrupt departure of one end unit from the bed will result in immediate drop in temperature.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Summer Fun
Dave travels a lot. He is actually 1000 miles away as I write. He often asks me to come along, but as he is usually going to places like Minnesota in the winter, Alabama in the summer or New Jersey anytime of the year, I politely decline. But this summer, he had a 3 week job on Hilton Head Island, SC. Hmmmm, I thought, 3 weeks in the sun, no newborn or 1 yr old for the first summer in um, ever, and a house on the market that I cannot keep clean...This might work. So we tagged along.
It was actually the greatest vacation that I've ever had. Previous family vacations have always been so full of activities that the kids get overloaded and everyone gets miserable. But this time, because we knew we had 3 full weeks, we took it easy. While Dave worked, I would take the kids to the beach or the pool. We came back to the hotel (extended stay type with a kitchen) and had lunch and naps. Then we were re-energized for the evening with Daddy. It was the perfect, relaxing time that every woman needs during the third trimester of pregnancy.
But there were some moments. A few days into the trip, the kids and I were hanging out by the pool. Clam was sick and had diarrhea in his swim diaper. I only had my room key and a bottle of water with us, so we headed back to the room. My key did not work (the first of only a hundred times this would happen until I was politely told that keycards and cellphones are not compatible), so we headed, dripping and poopy, towards the front desk.
I politely informed the man on duty that I needed my card reactivated. He asked me my room number and, because he did not recognize me, my name. I told him, and he said my name was not on the registration. I gave him Dave's name. He said Dave was only listed as an occupant and was not the registered name. So I gave him Dave's company name and his direct supervisor's first name (all I knew). Strike three. He would not activate the card. He kept implying that I was trying to sneak into the room, unauthorized. I'm guessing because my pregnant belly, kids in tow disguise was not convincing enough. Now by this time, all 3 kids were whining; we were all shivering; Clam was really stinking; and I was about to blow. I kept my calm, however, and asked him if I could borrow his phone (mine was in the room). He asked if it was local and when I told him it was not he said, "Lady, I'm not going to let you make a long-distance call." That's when I walked outside. I was so close to losing it, but I just walked around for a minute trying to gather my thoughts. I knew Dave wouldn't be home for a few hours. The only thing within walking distance was a gas station and McDonalds, but I didn't have any money on me. I took a deep breath and went back to the front desk. I smiled politely and re-explained the situation to him. I asked him what he would recommend I do. He was the biggest jerk I have ever met. He told me, "Lady, it's not my problem." We went back and forth a few times, and I definitely was getting agitated, but I didn't go full force on him. So it shocked me when after pointing repeatedly to the sign stating No Unauthorized Persons will be Allowed in Rooms, he told me "Lady, if you raise your voice at me, I'm going to call the police." At that, I completely lost it. I told him, fine, call the police and I'm sure they'll personally open the door for me, etc... I actually managed not to curse in front of the kids. Then I burst into tears. I am not a crier, but I was pregnant and so frustrated (the kids were jabbering/whining/questioning the entire time). Thank God, Dave's co-worker happened to come back to the hotel to use the fax machine. He was walking down the hall during the last heated exhange and heard it all. He laid in on the man and provided whatever information was needed to get me back into the room. I have never been so happy to change a diaper in my life. I was absolutely livid for hours, as was Dave. We filed a complaint and so did several other guests who, unbeknownst to me, witnessed the scene. Dave and I discussed it and didn't really want to leave the hotel because the kids were established there. We had to make a conscious decision to continue to be kind to this man whom we were to see for the next 5 weeks. It ended up being a really great opportunity to show God's love and forgiveness to him, and to the kids. Mr. Butch ended up being one of the kids' favorite people there. He went out of his way to be kind to us once he realized we were doing the same. He brought water toys to the kids and shared stories with me about his own children. It was a nice end to a really horrible few hours.
We left the dog with MIL who drove us bonkers with her twaily (twice-daily) phone updates/complaints. So I decided to drive home, 10 days into the trip, and take the dog to be boarded. The trip down had taken about 8 hours, so I figured I could handle 8 hours driving by myself back home. Not even close. It took me 13 hours. 5 of which were just trying to get out of South Carolina. Being 7 months pregnant, at the time, I had to pee constantly. But I couldn't just stop and pee. I had to take each child out of his/her carseat and in with me. And I left during the day instead of at night, so they didn't really sleep at all. 13 hours of Kindermusik and I was ready to leave the truck to Asker and hitchhike home. The next morning, I discovered to my delight and glory that the deep freezer had been accidentally unplugged. The smell was horrifying. My super-sensitive pregnancy nostrils have never been so abused. I promptly plugged it back in and decided to leave the mess for the culprit to clean up. At that point, I wasn't sure if I would be returning as Clam was still sick. But Dave called and said he would probably be a few weeks longer than expected, so we packed up and left 2 days later. This time, I traveled by moonlight and Smashing Pumpkins and it was much, much faster (and saner).
We spent many hours at the beach, spent an unforgettable day at isolated Daufuskie Island (which is only accessible by ferry), caught a few sharks, watched fireworks, celebrated Toot's 4th birthday and had an amazing time of family bonding. It was definitely a summer to remember. But the greatest part of the trip may have been the moment when I realized that I had the best blog post unfolding right in front of me. More to come on that next time.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Emerging From the Dark Pit
I have been to the seventh level of hell. And it is run by a sick two-year old.
I have not spent more than one consecutive hour in the last five days without a sick child in my arms. First my five year old was sick. He wasn't too bad. A slight cough and an extra hour of sleep in the morning. Two days and he was well. My kind of sickness! Then the next day his sister was sick. She also had a cough, but accompanied by a low-grade fever. She is a snuggler, so I just held her a little more during the day and she was fine. She took a few naps, ate a little less and sneaked into our bed each night. Not that that is abnormal or anything. She, too, was fine in a few days.
Then baby C got sick. And I discovered what true misery is. He turned two last week, and subsequently discovered the delights of automatically saying "no" to every possible statement.
"Do you want some cereal?" "No"
"What do you want to eat?" "No"
"Where's Daddy?" "No"
Having a two-year old and being pregnant are two simultaneous things I can handle. Having a sick-two year old and being pregnant are not. He has been a nightmare. Granted, he got a much stronger dose of the crap than his siblings did. He has a bad cough, runny nose and a relatively high fever. So he has every right to be miserable. I just wish he could go live somewhere else for a few days. Sorry, but I'm a little sleep-deprived.
During the days, he has been entirely too clingy. Now I love my munchkins, and I don't mind snuggling and kissing and hugging, even though I am completely disgusted by these actions in adults. At least adults in public. But, after ten straight hours of holding a coughing, boogery child, is it horrible to just want a little personal space? I tried laying him down on the couch.
"No, mom, no," arms lifted up in that pitiful you-don't-really-love-me look.
"Up, up, peese."
Even I am not cruel enough to walk away. So, I basically carried him non-stop for the last four days.
The nights have been horrible. Every night he started in his own bed and fell asleep quickly. I am a believer in letting fevers do their job, so I usually don't medicate my kids unless the fever is really high. When they're not sick, I think it's fine to dope them up as much as necessary for a good night's sleep. Anyway, he would fall asleep well and promptly wake up forty-five minutes later. And every forty-five minutes thereafter. The entire night. For five straight nights. He is actually crying right now. And now there goes the middle child. Yeah, no sleep for me again!
So, of course, I just bring them into bed with me because if I'm going to be miserable, so is Dave. T is OK. She just snuggles in and goes right to sleep. She might wake up a few times coughing, but as long as she can feel my neck and massage it for all it's worth, she'll sleep well. Granted, I am ready to chop off her fingers because she sucks them so freakin' loudly (oops, there goes that resolution), but at least she sleeps.
C likes to sleep close to me. Let me rephrase. He likes to try to re-enter the womb when he is sleeping. He climbs on me, then puts his face on mine, then wraps every limb around me. It is really adorable. For the first two minutes. But everyone knows that the core body temperature of a pregnant woman is 125 degrees. When you add a feverish little soul to that temperature, the poor little bun in the oven risks becoming charcoal. So I gently pull him off me just like we used to pull the leeches off after playin' in the crick. And I try to move away just a tad. Like maybe two inches or so. But C always awakens and starts his plaintive little cries.
"Mom, iss (kiss), mom" I kiss him on the forehead, avoiding the booger/germ/virus laden areas.
"No, mom, iss, outh" I say a quick prayer and enter the danger zone.
"More, mom, iss" He obviously won't mind strangers hugging him in church.
Actually, I'm amazed that I haven't gotten sick. C has obviously not learned to cover his mouth when he coughs. So I have had countless coughs directly into my nasal passages, eyes and sometimes open mouth. Real fun, this parenting thing is. But, as of now, I am still healthy, albeit tired, so I can't complain too much.
I'm hoping the next few days will bring healthy kids and warm weather. I'll be glad to have a few extra hours of personal time. And I'll be glad for some time alone with Dave. I have to admit, though, I'm probably going to miss the extra snuggles and "isses."
Update 9/24: I can't believe it. The entire family slept until 8am! Actually, the rest of the family slept. I lay in bed and listened to coughing, booger-induced snoring and finger sucking. But it was rest, nonetheless, and I feel so refreshed. Yeah!