kick

so i do believe when simple board games lead to physical blows...it is time for your children to go the hell back to school. yesterday morning i went for a jog around the ole neighborhood and came home to two kids crying. my husband was upstairs seemingly oblivious to what was going on. however, in his defense, he is in tune by now to the different types of crying. such as (but not limited to)...true pain, hurt feelings, whining, attention seeking (he was clearly ignoring them, for good reason). so, i walked in the room and said, "what is going on." (it was more of a statement then a question, my urgency for these types of things has long set sail with the earning of my masters in motherhood.) my second born looked up through her tears and said, "well we were playing the game 'sorry!' and she (pointing at first born)...KICKED ME IN THE HIP!" first of all, who kicks other people in the hips? so i said out loud, "WHO KICKS OTHER PEOPLE IN THE HIP?! i mean...a swift kick to the shin, a punch to the nose, a poke in the eye even...but the hip?

my first born looked up through her (fake) tears and said, "i ACCIDENTALLY kicked her in the HIP because she READ MY CARD when it was MY TURN!" i took a breath and retorted, "i have never in my entire life ACCIDENTALLY kicked someone in the HIP! not even my own brother! how does that even happen?!" up until this point there were straight (sad) faces all around, and then ella burst out laughing like a hyena, her sister followed...then i couldn't get myself together. but seriously, back when i was writing about burp cloths and binkies, i didn't think i would have to mediate a fight over a game of sorry! and a kick to the hip. i looked at both of them after the laughter and said, "you two need to go back to school, or i'm going to lose it." the little one then yelled again, "BUT SHE KICKED ME IN THE HIP!" (i can't.) i walked away shaking my head and hoping their 2nd and 4th grade teachers are ready to return to school. i also hope these aforementioned teachers have a doctorate in making snacks...cause that's what i did most of the summer. furthermore, this morning my second born got nose to nose with me (while i was sleeping) and whispered "what are we doing today?" i almost kicked her in the hip. (instead, we went swimming.)

each summer i take in the good, bad, and the ugly when it comes to being home with my kids, and heading back to school is always bittersweet for all of us. i read an article (i think sent to me by my dad) stressing how we only have 18 summers with our children. i'm already 9 years deep with one kid and 7 years deep with the other. i don't know how that happened. when i was elbows deep in dirty diapers and sleepless nights, i didn't realize that easier times would be RIGHT around the corner. when people told me that exact thing when i had newborns, i honestly wanted to throat punch them. alas, it's true. my kids just returned from what i called "grandparentpalooza" last week with my in-laws and are getting ready for another week of fun with my parents next week. many of my friends, and my own brother, are just getting into the baby game while i'm enjoying more "free time" then i've had in years. (not gonna lie, it's kind of glorious.) i received a text message from my father last night to "send games" with the kids for next week. i replied, "board games?" he said yes. remember that time he bought my 3 year old a drum set for her birthday? well...in retribution, i'm sending "sorry!" fingers crossed for at least one hip kick.

bug

so i've said it before and i'll say it again, there is something very humbling about someone vomiting in your immediate presence, or having to clean up someone's said vomit. last night i was delightfully in dreamland when i was abruptly awoken by, "mommy...my tummy hurts..." at approximately 12:37am. i rolled over and said what every mom would say in that moment, which is, "did you try to use the bathroom?" my first born then shared, that she had, in fact, used the facilities...two times. i could hear the angst in  her voice, so i told her to go over in the guest room and i would be right over. as i climbed into bed with her, i could hear "the swallows" happening. you know...where you are fighting back the saliva that is eventually going to aid the vomit in flying out of your mouth? i moved a small bathroom trashcan next to the bed, as i thought i was no novice with this (as you will see, i was wrong). i gently rubbed her back and played with her hair, not sure if the swallows were going to transpire into anything special (praying they wouldn't). 

well, at 1:16am, my first born fled to the bathroom nearby. when i went to investigate, she stated that she "just had to use the bathroom again." i waited for her to return and as she laid back down, she immediately shot straight back up and went running back for the bathroom...SANS TRASHCAN. i then heard the splash and splatter of 1000 broken dreams as her puke hit the blue carpet in the hallway. i winced, not even wanting to go out there...but if not me, the dog might get there first and that might be even more gross (she'd happily eat it). my kid was standing there, mouth agape, hair all over her head like a feral child and i ran to her like some mother figure out of a national geographic magazine (everything akimbo). to my horror, her entire meal from the night before was laid out before me in that hallway. my first thought was, "does this child not CHEW?" her dinner delicacies included penne pasta (most still whole), taco meat (like i just pulled it out of the pan), corn chips (some full sized), and like half a burrito shell (no joke).

i don't necessarily have a weak stomach, but when i saw that it almost made me run for the hills. like, i legitimately thought about what life might be like without my kids and husband if i just fled to bermuda right then and there. instead, i escorted her to the bathroom, held back her hair like a sorority sister for a few more minutes...then went to wake my husband so that i could clean up the mess and he could take care of her in the meantime (mistake). he woke up startled and scared at the mention of the words "sick" and "puke," but he slowly made his way to the bathroom and i went downstairs to grab some cleaning supplies. after cleaning up the larger chunks, the rest was a disaster. i was up to my elbows in half eaten food as i dry heaved and hoped like hell it would come out of the carpet. plus, i didn't want to wake up the culprit's little sister in the process...as that would've been a whole other level of pain. i opted eventually to get out the steam cleaner, which is now currently outside on the porch, because i can't imagine what is inside of it at this moment (nor do i want to know).

throughout the night, my first born then upchucked no less than 16 more times...every 15 minutes on the hour. (it. was. awful.) i moved her to a sleeping bag in our bedroom, which was closer to the bathroom and also gave her a large bowl instead of a skimpy trashcan (rookie mistake). at about 4:37am and losing the will to survive, my husband rolled over and said, "i'm gonna be sick..." and ran to the bathroom. he took off work and i boldly believed i would make it work myself. i got up, got dressed, got the little sister up and moving...grabbed a bottle of water, took a swig, and realized that my fate was doomed. i ran to the bathroom and then realized no one would be leaving this house today. i don't know when this stomach bug is going to vacate the premises, but if the little one gets it...i'm seriously moving to bermuda. she is dramatic as the day is long and ain't nobody got time for that. hopefully your first couple of days in the new year is filled with fun things that don't involve bodily fluids like within our family. i mean, we don't even have the christmas decorations down and there is a steam cleaner full of puke on the porch...premonition that 2019 is gonna be the best year yet? prayers welcomed.