There's just no escape from the bodily fluids

Well, it wasn't quite the greeting I expected when I got home from work today, but I'm not surprised.  I walked in to hearing Mr W's exasperated voice talking to Ryan in the bathroom...and Ryan was puking, of course, Mr W's favorite child malady.  (He's a sympathetic puker, so puke duty usually falls to me--I wonder sometimes how a man that can cart drunks around in his car to the station can manage to not toss his cookies when they do but can barely make it through the cleanup when one of the kids does it.)

I take over, and clean up the little guy, eyeing Mr W, who looks a little green in the gills.  Hey, I don't need the two of them to go at the same time so I make him sit down.  It's time for his nap anyway, lol.  He says he's mentioned to Nolan that he's gonna talk to him later about being up all night.  Yessiree, the boy was our resident insomniac again, inconveniencing the grown ups in the house.  No way both of us can concentrate on the task at hand when you never know if he's just gonna come running in.  It was a weird kind of showdown, what with us closing his door and him opening it. "I need to use the bathroom."  "I heard a noise."  "I need a drink."  I need a drink after all that.  Finally, we just gave up.  He won the round.

I am wondering what's up with him.  Hmm.  I decide we need to have a little talk.  Really, that's all I intended, to kind of ask him what was bothering him, or if he needed to get something off his chest.  Honestly.  I was thinking that maybe something might be causing him to be afraid to fall asleep.  Ding!  The light bulb goes on in my head.  Maybe he's noticing that he's having um, night time wood, and it's bothering him because he doesn't understand why.  The little talk I intended to have with him about insomnia and our privacy suddenly becomes THE TALK and I wasn't really expecting it.

I didn't go into extreme detail--no flowcharts or diagrams this time, lol.  I painted the picture with broad strokes so we (hey, his Dad is so not off the hook here) can fill it in some more later.  Simple, but informational and reassuring.  I guess the point I was really trying to hammer home was that he could come to me or his Dad at any time with any question and that we would always tell him the truth, even if it required a minute or two of collecting ourselves first.  I told him that he'd probably be hearing all kinds of information from his buddies at some point in the future, and that it may not always be accurate, but that the information we would give him would always be, so he should always, always, feel he could come to us.  I managed to get it all out without major interruptions, without embarassing him, and without blushing.

He looked relieved when we were done talking.  He was probably relieved that I stopped talking.

"But Mom," he says, as I brace myself for his question, "I had trouble sleeping last night because my room was too hot."

OOHH.  Guess I jumped the gun a bit, huh?  Oops.

 And now that I'm done with the 'serious parenting' part of my day, I can move on to the:

Saturday Six - Episode 44

 

1. What one song or melody can make you smile even when you're having a rotten day?

I have to admit that I'm a closet Madonna fan, but her song "Holiday" always means that I smile and crank it up.

2. What are your plans for the day?  How much of it do you think you'll actually accomplish?

Work.  Come home and put out any fires.  Haircut.  Laundry.  Some housecleaning.  Let's see, I have been to work and back; you've just read about the fires I put out; my haircut is in an hour; and I've started the laundry but not the housecleaning.  Not bad for a Saturday, considering. 

3. What television show do you most enjoy watching when you're all alone and can devote your complete attention to it?

Hmm, the fact I can't just name one makes me thinkI watch too much t.v. but here goes:  Desperate Housewives (when we are home and I remember it's on); all the CSI's (even the reruns in syndication); House (love it); and Six Feet Under/Sopranos (when they are actually on--sheesh how much longer do I have to wait?) 

4. What was the last thing you remember arguing with someone about?

Oh, wow.  Mr W doesn't argue much (so aggravating) so I wind up ranting to him, and it's usually about housework (aka the "laundry doesn't fold itself so stop watching JAG and help me out, you idiot" rant.  I don't do it often.  What can I say?  I'm agreeable most of the time.) 
 
5. READER'S CHOICE QUESTION #45 from Bud:  Inspired by this article on cell phone technology, he asks, "What is your most aggravating public experience with a cell-phone user?"

I think the people that use cell phones when they are at a checkout in a store are the worst.  So rude to the poor cashier trying to interact with them and to the people waiting their turn in line. Hey.  You're not that important--get outta my way before the toddler chucks a milk carton at you.

6. READER'S CHOICE QUESTION #46 from Stacy:  Did you watch the Super Bowl and if you did, do you like the commercials, the half-time show OR the ceremony following the game the best?

Let's see, Paul McCartney, or a monkey kissing the butt of his boss?  I'll take Paul McCartney this time.  The commercials were a bit of a letdown this year (with a couple of exceptions) and overall, I think it was a "play it safe" kind of deal.  Blah.

The best laid plans

Okay, this'll be quick.  People are trying to sleep...

I mentioned earlier today about milestones.  Well, I've had another going on recently with Ryan in that he's now gone for most of the day at school too, and I have more time on my hands with Audrey (and myself.)  It's been an adjustment, but I've done ok so far.  (muffled sob--no, really, I'm fine...give me another week, and I'll try to ship her off too.)

Today, for example I got to meet a friend for breakfast, which was fun.  I'm glad it worked out.

Then I went to run some errands, one of which was to get a new air filter and the other which involved getting valentines for the kids for school.  Luckily, I was able to find valentines they would approve of and that I wasn't stuck with some horrific Barbie-only choice (not good for boys, lol.)  So far, so good.

I went for the air filter, and took it upon myself to go for it and get weed killer too, in hopes of surprising Mr W with my yard-ittude.  And here is where things took a small twist south.

Vacuumed off the filter cover--check.  Vacuumed unside the vent--check.  Put up new filter to place inside vent--no go.  Somehow, I managed to get the wrong size.  How I accomplished that, I hadn't a clue.  Cool as Lowe's is, when I called, they said I could return it, and the guy in customer service didn't laugh at my expense at all. At least not to my face.  When I went to get the right one, I discovered my mistake was in thinking that the same size filter lay below the shelf above it (where the right size was, but a different type) when in fact it did not.  Oops.

As soon as I rectify that situation, I get set to step out into the yard and do the weed-killing deed when it starts to rain.  It's supposed to rain until Saturday, and I have since spilled the beans to Mr W, so so much for that little surprise.

I wound up bringing two of the boys friends home with us after school, which was no problem.  All of them are hanging around, having fun, while I'm working on my earlier entry.  Audrey comes up to me,"My stomach hurts."  Hmm.  I check her out, and she seems ok, so I tell her to sit still for a minute to see if she feels better...

She comes up to me a few minutes later, and climbs up on the computer desk next to me, and it's like watching a movie--she just hurls, and I'm comforting her but trying to get the boys to run grab me a towel ("Huh?" "Hurling, towel, now, run!" "Oh!") before things really get ugly.  Get her cleaned up, and calmed down, start a load to wash up the mess.  Poor thing, it's really her first hurl attack.

She's got a bit of diarrhea, to top it off.  Had a good nap, drank a bit, socialized with us...giving the big sympathy getting 'I feel yucky' face to all. 

Mr W hears it before I do.  "Audrey, are you gonna throw up?" he asks.  She nods, just barely, and I scoop her up and rush her into the bathroom just in time.  Oh, man, a 2 yr old heaving has to be the most pathetic sight ever.  She's been ok since, knocked out...of course I didn't let her drink anything else either (which she wasn't happy about.)

Where was I? 

Yard?  What yard?

Let's see:  weed killing vs. vomiting little one...I think the little one wins this time.

Either way, I'm covered in something stinky, so it really doesn't matter, does it?

 

You can take the girl out of the small town,

but you can't take the small town out of the girl.

Audrey and I have reached a milestone.  She officially has stopped nursing.  Yeah, a little old to do it, but she's the last one, so I cut her a little slack.  She's not done it for a few weeks now.  It's a double edged sword, however, because now our bedtime routine has changed. I wind up going to bed when she does, fully intent on getting up and using 'my time' like always, but I wind up knocking out too.  While the extra zzz's are nice, I have things to do and silence to enjoy once all the kids are down. 'My time' is important to me, and I've missed it. Yet, on the other hand, Audrey quitting me means:

WHOOHOO!  Mommy got to go shopping for some ahem, undergarments that weren't the usual boring maternity/nursing attire.  What, these things don't just come in serviceable white or beige?

One of my friends had told me how much she liked a particular bra at Victoria's Secret, so last week I had to check it out.  Usually, I walk right by that place, averting my eyes, lol, because it can be particularly depressing to look in there knowing you have the Playtex 3000 nursing model strapped to your chest.  But this time, I walked right in, cruised around, took it all in, and .....walked out empty-handed. 

What is it about that place that turns me into a ten year old?  It was really kinda intimidating; I was instantly regressed to the preadolescent memory of "oh, I don't look like that" in the presence of undergarments that are designed for only those fabulous chicks in their commercials.  I kept expecting Tyra Banks or Gisele to come out and point a finger (a la "Invasion of the Body Snatchers") ordering me to be cast out.  Yup, I got out of there in a hurry.  They certainly didn't carry things like that in the 'company store' growing up back home (they did carry endless rows of granny-panties --like bloomers in their coverage--and ugly bras that I still shudder to think about.  When I mentally compare it to the selection at Target, where I think even thongs are marketed to grandmas, I suffer pangs of horror.  Call it post-traumatic Nana-panties syndrome.)

Anyway, I decided I'd fare better with -pardon the pun- some support. 

Jane to the rescue!  Last Friday, when we went out shopping, she needed to go there.  This time, I did more than browse, I actually tried one on.  O M G.  What an improvement!  She could hear me giggling in the dressing room, so I put my shirt on and opened the door:  "Check this out!  Nice rack--holy cow, that's what they're supposed to look like?!"  Of course, a fitting saleslady was on us in seconds...and when she asked to help out, I actually let her in the dressing room with me...(which I never do) and chuckled at her suggestion that perhaps I needed to try the one with ahem, more of a barrier (lining.)  What is she, nuts?  I don't need anymore padding, highbeams or no highbeams showing, lol. (Gotta give Mr W a thrill whenever I can, right?)  In the heat of the moment, I decided to get a couple, even though they were a bit snug.  The next size is only available online, I was told.  I was so enamored that I took them home...and wound up returning one...and discovering VS online afterall.  Heehee.  Great, now I can feel inadequate in the comfort of my own home, without the benefit of bad lighting and 'helpful' salesgirls. (I'm kidding, really.)  Oh, the selection.  Definately more than the serviceable white and beige...

My package arrived yesterday (Oh, yeah!!) along with a catalog that I'll have to hide from the impressionable males in my house, and that includes Mr W.

Though now I think I may have swayed him into seeing the benefits of my time spent online.

 

It's a jungle out there

mood: tired, but still feisty

and it's a jungle in here, too.

I got home from work, no Mr W in sight.  "Where's Daddy?" I ask Audrey when she nearly knocks me over, saying hello.  "In his room," she replies.

Down the hall I go, wondering why the dog's crate is in the front room.  Oh, great, I think, Shadow blew chunks or something unpleasant, and he's dealing with that.  I assume a defensive pose (ready to run/duck) as I poke my head into the room and ask him "Whatcha doin?"  He's sitting on the floor of our bedroom, with the steam cleaner in pieces around him.

"Look in the bathroom," he says.  I look, see nothing too unusual...Audrey's Spongebob flipflops, the steam cleaner solution..."What?"  "Look at the bottoms of her flipflops."  I flip them over, and lo and behold, they are magenta.  Oy.  He continues: "Look at the front of her little ballerina outfit, her hands, her legs..."  I see the residue of magenta all over the place.  "What happened?"  "She colored the bottoms of her flipflops and walked all over the house.  I wiped down the toilet seat lid, but I think it may be stained.  I'm working on this carpet next."

"Please tell me that you didn't blow a gasket when you saw all this."

"No, I didn't yell at her."  "Good, because it's not like her brothers haven't done this too.  Remember the time Nolan and Ben made a map line from the living room down the hallway with black crayon so they could 'find their way' to their room?  That came out, I'm sure this will too."  Audrey is hugging my leg, shaking a bit, because she knows we're talking about her, and she did something wrong.  I take her to change her clothes, so I can try and remove the marker from the ballerina outfit.  Mr W gets the steam cleaner rollers working so he reassembles it and starts cleaning the rug.

It doesn't take long for something like that to happen.  Luckily, most of the time, you can take it in stride as one of those surprises you get from a two year old (or kids in general.)  I try really hard not to get worked up about these events, because it's not worth it in the grand scheme of things.  "It's washable" comes out of my mouth more often than a screech about how "it's ruined."  Let's just say there are no Persian carpets, Ming vases, or white couches in my house.

The jungle out there would be my backyard.  Yesterday, I went to put the dog out, and I swear I heard something say "FEED me."  Seriously, there are weeds out there that are as tall as Audrey.  Shadow stalks around like she's on the savannah hunting zebras.  "F**k,"  I mutter under my breath, but loud enough for Mr W to hear.  Biting my tongue to keep from really letting loose, I manage to clench out that I'd probably better call the service I used last time to come and take care of the yard before someone hides a body back there.

Mr W was not amused.  But hey, I've not nagged him at all, and I've watched it get worse, knowing full well I'd need to call for reinforcements. 

Surprisingly, after he finished the rug, he went outside to work on the yard.  He had said something that annoyed me but was bugging him, so I went after him to sort it out.  He asked me if I'd come outside to help him.

Damn it!  Trapped.  He asked nicely, so how could I refuse --can we say 'sucker?' I grabbed a shovel and started talking to him about his little comment that set me off.  It wasn't that big a deal afterall, ahem, just a little discussion about what it is that I do, exactly, with all this computer time...  Guess I'm back to incognito, everyone-but-Audrey at home online time (lol, just kidding.)

I kicked some serious ass in the yard, too.  Even though I really hate it.  I can't fault Mr W too much for not tending to it, we both are landscape-challenged.  Of course, I just realized this recently.  I couldn't have realized it when we were building the house, and had to have a big backyard.  I was envisioning swing sets, children playing, a dog or two, barbecue space, and maybe someday, a pool. 

Instead I got a fertile yard and man, so while I've definately got the 'children playing' part down, and a dog, the rest of the picture is still being penciled in amidst three foot tall weeds, stray trees, and the broken sprinkler heads.

Yard improvements can get expensive, and something else more urgent always comes up-- things like car repair, sick animals, new babies, or someone needing a vital organ replaced, lol.  I've got that 'new babies' thing under control now, so I've decided that we'll tackle this yard business next, one step at a time.  I'll try not to hiss at Mr W when he can't get out there, and try to help him out when he does.  

But I'd like my own machete first. 

Sat night Six

Saturday Six - Episode 43  

1. What is your favorite restaurant to visit for breakfast and what do you order?
Hmm.  I haven't been out to breakfast in a very long time.  So sad!  I do know I'm partial to scrambled egg, potato, and cheese burritos from Carolinas.  Unfortunately, I rarely make it there in time!

2. Do you have any unique ability like those who appear on David Letterman's "Stupid Human Tricks?"  If so, how did you learn you had this talent?

Publicly, no, I'm boring, and quite graceless-- no tying of cherry stems into knots with my tongue here.  Privately, well.....no, I'm boring, and quite graceless--  ;) 

3. There are plenty of sites on the internet for pen pals; some of them are specifically designed for communicating with people in prison.  Have you ever or would you begin corresponding with a stranger who was in prison?

No.  The only exception here would be Martha.
 
4. Name two questions you have always wanted to ask a pair of identical twins.

Besides the obvious sicko ones?  
 
5. If you looked back at your high school yearbook photos, what is more embarrassing?  Your hair, your clothes, your glasses, or your complexion?

Mr W weighs in on this question.  He says "clothes, I could never be embarassed about hair" (he shaves his head b/c he's balding.) LOL! As for me, everything about my high school pictures is embarassing, esp clothes and glasses.  My glasses were soo big, I'm sure they could've been used to signal passing aircraft in an emergency.  Come on, who really likes their high school pictures?

6. If you had to change the color of one of the following, which would you change and why:  the walls in your living room, your car, or your eyes.

I've changed the living room walls a couple of times already...like my car color...  If you'd asked  me this before I had kids, eyes.  So brown (blah.)  They have little flecks of yellow and green, but no one sees that due to the glasses.  I used to wish they were blue, or green.  Now, though, I've learned how beautiful brown can be by looking at Nolan's (dark) and Ryan's (like chocolate) eyes, so I've come to like mine a whole lot more.  (A different roll of the genetic dice gave Ben bl/gr/gray like Mr W's, and Audrey's are hazel.) Think I'll keep everything the same color for now!!