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.
Thursday, January 3, 2019
Wednesday, November 21, 2018
filling
so today i was folding laundry at early o'clock and my second born casually asked me, "so what are we doing today?" kids always want an itinerary when there isn't school, and they have amazing plans and social lives for people that don't have drivers licenses. also, how do they always wake up karate chopping the air and ready to take over the free world? (i need some of that.) anyway, i mentioned that we were going to gallivant to the gym and then head home to cook my grandmother's filling for thanksgiving tomorrow. they both yelped, "CAN I HELP!?" (oh, hell.) i had a choice in that moment...to say sure and let it happen, or to tell them no. i couldn't think of any good reasons to say no, so i let it happen. (sums up motherhood.) as we geared up with about four pounds of butter and five pounds of potatoes, ella looked at me and said, "so was this, like, her recipe that she made? did she make it up?" i said, "oh i don't know...i'm sure it was passed down from her mother." then she replied quietly, "if she was here would you ask her?" my grandmother was very influential in my life and passed away when ella was 1...so naturally i had a moment and had to pull myself together. that's really fun when you are peeling potatoes.
i then pulled out the recipe (even though i could do it blindfolded) and ella read the ingredients. meanwhile carrie dangled off of a chair wild eyed like a crazed weasel, taking in every word. i had already peeled the potatoes (and had an ugly cry during), so that was done. they then tried to help me cut up the potatoes. apparently cutting potatoes is hard for little people, so instead of someone losing a finger...i said i would finish. ella then said, "wait, so if you cut off your finger does one grow back!?" i said, "nope! you just lose a finger! sometimes they can sew it back on." she cringed and then said, "wow, octopuses are more awesome than us, they grow their tentacles back when they lose one!" (indeed.) so she read the next part where we had to cut up an onion and celery. i thought celery would be easy, and read them the riot act again about sharp knives and stuff. i had no less than 3 heart attacks and 4 strokes while they were working the knives. carrie was acting all willy nilly with it and i thought for sure her tiny digits were going to be part of the filling and our thanksgiving feast. ella got cocky at one point and started going faster, i had to remind her she was not, in fact, an octopus as we moved onto the next step.
as i recovered from v fib, the potatoes stopped boiling and we drained them. at this point, it was around lunchtime, and both kids then acted like if they didn't have a meal they would surely pass out directly in the potatoes. why whenever you are in the kitchen, they NEED something from said kitchen? (snacks, drinks, etc infinity) so we took a short intermission and i made lunch amongst the cooking mess. after they were revived by mac and cheese and nuggets, i let each have a bowl and mixer. carrie looked like i gave her the golden ticket in a wonka bar at the passing of this privilege. however, when she had the power of the mixer in her hand, she forgot to hold onto the bowl...and it almost flew on the floor. (again, my heart.) potatoes were also flying like fireworks in the air as she yelped, "i don't wanna do this anymore!!!" (cripes, kid!) i gently removed the mixer from her hand, turned it off...and then poured myself a cocktail. the only reason i hadn't sooner was because i thought one of them was going to lose phalanges and we would have to uber to the ER. (no bueno.) anyway, this last step was done and i poured the filling mixture into the baking dishes for tomorrow...as both kids ran off to take over the free world in another adventure.
at the end of all this, i came up with 234 reasons why a solid "no" would've been a valid answer to their "CAN I HELP!?"...heart palpitations and flying potatoes being two of them. however, at the end of the day going into v fib and flying vegetables are just part of motherhood. (for real.) did anyone tell me it was going to be like this? no, sir. i will say the chunks of celery are a little larger than i would've allowed had i been making this dish solo. plus, there might be some lumps in it due to little hands using the mixer...but honestly who cares. my kids got to make food for thanksgiving with me that has been in my family for years. it was the first time they asked to help, and saying yes seemed to be the only answer in that moment. to answer ella's question, i would have most definitely asked my grandmother personally if she made up the recipe or got it from her mother, had she been still been here on this earth. however, i already know she was still there with us...laughing whole heartedly as fingers almost got amputated and potatoes flew. (also, as i poured a cocktail.) now, through something as simple as a filling recipe, she will always be with my kids. for that, i am grateful.
i then pulled out the recipe (even though i could do it blindfolded) and ella read the ingredients. meanwhile carrie dangled off of a chair wild eyed like a crazed weasel, taking in every word. i had already peeled the potatoes (and had an ugly cry during), so that was done. they then tried to help me cut up the potatoes. apparently cutting potatoes is hard for little people, so instead of someone losing a finger...i said i would finish. ella then said, "wait, so if you cut off your finger does one grow back!?" i said, "nope! you just lose a finger! sometimes they can sew it back on." she cringed and then said, "wow, octopuses are more awesome than us, they grow their tentacles back when they lose one!" (indeed.) so she read the next part where we had to cut up an onion and celery. i thought celery would be easy, and read them the riot act again about sharp knives and stuff. i had no less than 3 heart attacks and 4 strokes while they were working the knives. carrie was acting all willy nilly with it and i thought for sure her tiny digits were going to be part of the filling and our thanksgiving feast. ella got cocky at one point and started going faster, i had to remind her she was not, in fact, an octopus as we moved onto the next step.
as i recovered from v fib, the potatoes stopped boiling and we drained them. at this point, it was around lunchtime, and both kids then acted like if they didn't have a meal they would surely pass out directly in the potatoes. why whenever you are in the kitchen, they NEED something from said kitchen? (snacks, drinks, etc infinity) so we took a short intermission and i made lunch amongst the cooking mess. after they were revived by mac and cheese and nuggets, i let each have a bowl and mixer. carrie looked like i gave her the golden ticket in a wonka bar at the passing of this privilege. however, when she had the power of the mixer in her hand, she forgot to hold onto the bowl...and it almost flew on the floor. (again, my heart.) potatoes were also flying like fireworks in the air as she yelped, "i don't wanna do this anymore!!!" (cripes, kid!) i gently removed the mixer from her hand, turned it off...and then poured myself a cocktail. the only reason i hadn't sooner was because i thought one of them was going to lose phalanges and we would have to uber to the ER. (no bueno.) anyway, this last step was done and i poured the filling mixture into the baking dishes for tomorrow...as both kids ran off to take over the free world in another adventure.
at the end of all this, i came up with 234 reasons why a solid "no" would've been a valid answer to their "CAN I HELP!?"...heart palpitations and flying potatoes being two of them. however, at the end of the day going into v fib and flying vegetables are just part of motherhood. (for real.) did anyone tell me it was going to be like this? no, sir. i will say the chunks of celery are a little larger than i would've allowed had i been making this dish solo. plus, there might be some lumps in it due to little hands using the mixer...but honestly who cares. my kids got to make food for thanksgiving with me that has been in my family for years. it was the first time they asked to help, and saying yes seemed to be the only answer in that moment. to answer ella's question, i would have most definitely asked my grandmother personally if she made up the recipe or got it from her mother, had she been still been here on this earth. however, i already know she was still there with us...laughing whole heartedly as fingers almost got amputated and potatoes flew. (also, as i poured a cocktail.) now, through something as simple as a filling recipe, she will always be with my kids. for that, i am grateful.
Sunday, February 11, 2018
birthdays
so there are certain things they don't outline in the proverbial parenting books, such as the joys and woes of...birthday parties. they failed to mention many, many other things, but this is a big one. if you have children, think about a lackadaisical sunday and what you filled your time with on that afternoon sans work prior to procreating. did you enjoy reading a book? perhaps an adult beverage? getting ready for the week ahead with a long and luxurious nap? prior to having kids, these were some of the magical things i was doing on a sunday afternoon. i used to refer to it as "sunday funday." if you don't currently have children, i suggest you suck all the fun out of sunday that it has to offer (every last drop). as a parent, today it was more like, "sunday why did i chose to procreate and then have these creatures wear roller skates day." sound like fun? i didn't think so.
let's throw in here that on this particular sunday, there was monsoon weather conditions outside. i swear that when we opened to the door to walk out into the free world, the flag pole bend in HALF in front of our eyes and barred our way off the porch (i can't make this up.) both kids screamed and ran back inside, as i shook my head. we went back in to regroup as the rain and winds mocked me from the other side of the door. if mother nature were any kind of mother at all she wouldn't have whipped up this mayhem as we were heading out to a birthday party that afternoon. she would've calmed things down and said, "this motherhood gig is hard enough, so i'll just give you short respite from the rain." anyways, we ran out to the car and water was flying SIDEWAYS, as they were wearing hoods and rainboots...i won't mention that one kid was wearing SNOW boots due to the fact that we couldn't find her rain variety.
anyway, we all dove in the car away from the water like we were the wicked witches of the west and we were all going to melt. if you are anything like me, i still hadn't gotten a gift or card, so two more stops were in order before we even sauntered into the birthday party like i had that stuff prepared all week. as we rolled up route 97, the rain was coming down and i proceeded to hydroplane on the highway. i yelled, "OOO!" as my offspring screamed from the backseat. then came the questions, "what was THAT mommy?!" "why did the car do that?!" "were we SURFING?" "WHAT HAPPENED!?" (holy balls ladies, calm down.) i explained what "hydroplaning" meant and satisfied with the answer...they proceeded to go right back to poking each other and kicking each other with their boots (one snow, one rain...respectively) in the backseat.
as we arrived on the scene, i couldn't help but notice that this roller rink looked exactly like the skating rink i went to as a kid from the outside. then when we walked in, it's like we took a time machine right back to the 1980s. i swear even the lady collecting the tickets was wearing a guns n roses t-shirt and had magnificent teased bangs. also, the gum still stuck in the carpet was from 1986. i quickly realized that there was not one birthday party going on at this place, there were 4 (FOUR!) parties simultaneously happening at one time. i stood awkwardly when we walked in an stared around in circles...secretly hoping we had come to the wrong place and could head right back home down hydroplane lane. suddenly, i heard my name being yelled and saw the mom of the birthday girl waving violently at me. nope, i wasn't getting out of this one. not today.
shortly after arrival, both of my kids got skates and although i can't fully explain what they looked like when they finally strapped them on and stood up, but it was somewhere between a baby deer fresh out of the womb and a college kid coming home from a frat party on a friday night. they both had this wild look in their eyes, too, like i was somehow willing them to slide all over the place and i was at fault for their follies. shortly after one kid face planted, we found some walker type thing on wheels to help them out. i had to sign them out and the lady with the teased hair, pencil, and notebook warned me that i better bring back the right number walkers. i wondered what she thought i was going to do with them...like, steal them? what use would they be outside of this skating rink? i gave her a serious head nod and walked away (relax, susan, i won't steal it).
like i said before, there were four birthday parties going on at one time. so think about what i said about my own children being drunk deer...and then multiply that by at least 73 kids. there were limbs and tears flying EVERYWHERE. kids were crashing into each other, cinder block walls, benches...me. then there were those adults who thought they would go back to the 1980s in their hearts and minds and give it a go. a grown man ricocheted into the wall and wiped out right in front of me...it took everything in my being not to laugh in his (bruised) face, and i consider myself a nice person! my second born fell flat on her back like 3 times, and i had a mini stroke each time hoping she didn't hit her head or break a bone. my first born ditched the walker and was wildly trying to balance and be cool at the same time (EVERYTHING akimbo). adrenaline was at an all time high at this point.
had it not been for another mom friend amidst this misery, i may have left like 16 minutes into this nightmare. after happy birthday rang through the air, i would've returned those walkers (easy, susan) and ran out the door and back into the rain. she and i made eye contact when we first got there, and it was very apparent we were on the same wave length. we were somewhere between, "what are we doing here?" and "we want our kids to have fun!" i feel like the roller rink today was a metaphor for motherhood in a lot of ways...as i often ask questions like, "what am i doing here?" while tears and face plants happen around me. however, misery loves company and you end up commiserating with other moms who are skating the same rinks. when we got into the car, both kids exclaimed, "that was REALLY FUN!" so sunday funday might not mean what it used to, but at least someone was having a good time. that aside, i aged approximately fourteen years this afternoon. if that sounds like fun, then parenting might be for you.
let's throw in here that on this particular sunday, there was monsoon weather conditions outside. i swear that when we opened to the door to walk out into the free world, the flag pole bend in HALF in front of our eyes and barred our way off the porch (i can't make this up.) both kids screamed and ran back inside, as i shook my head. we went back in to regroup as the rain and winds mocked me from the other side of the door. if mother nature were any kind of mother at all she wouldn't have whipped up this mayhem as we were heading out to a birthday party that afternoon. she would've calmed things down and said, "this motherhood gig is hard enough, so i'll just give you short respite from the rain." anyways, we ran out to the car and water was flying SIDEWAYS, as they were wearing hoods and rainboots...i won't mention that one kid was wearing SNOW boots due to the fact that we couldn't find her rain variety.
anyway, we all dove in the car away from the water like we were the wicked witches of the west and we were all going to melt. if you are anything like me, i still hadn't gotten a gift or card, so two more stops were in order before we even sauntered into the birthday party like i had that stuff prepared all week. as we rolled up route 97, the rain was coming down and i proceeded to hydroplane on the highway. i yelled, "OOO!" as my offspring screamed from the backseat. then came the questions, "what was THAT mommy?!" "why did the car do that?!" "were we SURFING?" "WHAT HAPPENED!?" (holy balls ladies, calm down.) i explained what "hydroplaning" meant and satisfied with the answer...they proceeded to go right back to poking each other and kicking each other with their boots (one snow, one rain...respectively) in the backseat.
as we arrived on the scene, i couldn't help but notice that this roller rink looked exactly like the skating rink i went to as a kid from the outside. then when we walked in, it's like we took a time machine right back to the 1980s. i swear even the lady collecting the tickets was wearing a guns n roses t-shirt and had magnificent teased bangs. also, the gum still stuck in the carpet was from 1986. i quickly realized that there was not one birthday party going on at this place, there were 4 (FOUR!) parties simultaneously happening at one time. i stood awkwardly when we walked in an stared around in circles...secretly hoping we had come to the wrong place and could head right back home down hydroplane lane. suddenly, i heard my name being yelled and saw the mom of the birthday girl waving violently at me. nope, i wasn't getting out of this one. not today.
shortly after arrival, both of my kids got skates and although i can't fully explain what they looked like when they finally strapped them on and stood up, but it was somewhere between a baby deer fresh out of the womb and a college kid coming home from a frat party on a friday night. they both had this wild look in their eyes, too, like i was somehow willing them to slide all over the place and i was at fault for their follies. shortly after one kid face planted, we found some walker type thing on wheels to help them out. i had to sign them out and the lady with the teased hair, pencil, and notebook warned me that i better bring back the right number walkers. i wondered what she thought i was going to do with them...like, steal them? what use would they be outside of this skating rink? i gave her a serious head nod and walked away (relax, susan, i won't steal it).
like i said before, there were four birthday parties going on at one time. so think about what i said about my own children being drunk deer...and then multiply that by at least 73 kids. there were limbs and tears flying EVERYWHERE. kids were crashing into each other, cinder block walls, benches...me. then there were those adults who thought they would go back to the 1980s in their hearts and minds and give it a go. a grown man ricocheted into the wall and wiped out right in front of me...it took everything in my being not to laugh in his (bruised) face, and i consider myself a nice person! my second born fell flat on her back like 3 times, and i had a mini stroke each time hoping she didn't hit her head or break a bone. my first born ditched the walker and was wildly trying to balance and be cool at the same time (EVERYTHING akimbo). adrenaline was at an all time high at this point.
had it not been for another mom friend amidst this misery, i may have left like 16 minutes into this nightmare. after happy birthday rang through the air, i would've returned those walkers (easy, susan) and ran out the door and back into the rain. she and i made eye contact when we first got there, and it was very apparent we were on the same wave length. we were somewhere between, "what are we doing here?" and "we want our kids to have fun!" i feel like the roller rink today was a metaphor for motherhood in a lot of ways...as i often ask questions like, "what am i doing here?" while tears and face plants happen around me. however, misery loves company and you end up commiserating with other moms who are skating the same rinks. when we got into the car, both kids exclaimed, "that was REALLY FUN!" so sunday funday might not mean what it used to, but at least someone was having a good time. that aside, i aged approximately fourteen years this afternoon. if that sounds like fun, then parenting might be for you.
Monday, December 11, 2017
prizes
so it's the most wonderful time of the year, as they say. i don't know who "they" are...but "they" surely aren't traveling with a dog and two children all over god's creation during this most wonderful time. kids are perpetual monkey wrenches in the game of life and while traveling, they always have some extra tricks up their sleeves. my second born's latest trick included projectile vomit of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the confines of the car. i've always said that being puked on or cleaning up someone else's puke will humble you in a way nothing else can. when you have kids, it's just part of the territory. puke and poop are like consolation prizes in the game of parenting. as you know, consolation prizes go to runners up or losers in a contest....in this instance the loser is you (surprise!). our car ride played out something like this:
we had grand plans of heading up north visit my sister in law, cause she was flying in with her new baby and our nephew for a visit from colorado. our own kids were counting down the days they would get to play with their cousins. we were also very excited to see them...however, the part we are never excited for is the traveling part. the packing, the driving, the sheer amount of time it takes to get a family of four and a dog out the door is a little ridiculous. actually, it's borderline insane. i will say that it is one billion (give or take) times easier than when they were babies, but it's still equal to a brain hemorrhage on a hot day (it blows). so we spent friday night packing up everything that we needed for our two day voyage, including the kitchen sink...everything except for the puke bags.
the first leg of the trip started off stellar...we set sail from maryland with not a care in the world and zero traffic to deal with. we left early due to impending snow, and made it to my parents house for a quick visit in record time. i felt like fist pounding my husband when we made it there so quickly and without incident (i should've known my elation would be short lived). then, he and i gallivanted around our hometown sans children, christmas shopping and such, while my parents hung out with the kids. my mom proceeded to fill their bellies with food and apple juice galore so they wouldn't be hungry for the second part of the trip to the poconos (the plan backfired, nanny). we made them go to the bathroom no less then 12 times before they left and we went on our way.
it was snowing pretty steadily at this point and the roads were a bit slick. both kids were wearing sweaters and boots and tightly strapped in the backseat with the dog between them. about 20 minutes into the 90 minute trip i decided to call fen and see what type of glorious things she was getting into on that fine saturday afternoon. turns out she was sipping wine and writing christmas cards...and i secretly cursed her from afar. suddenly i heard what seemed like a whine slash scream from the backseat and i yelled, 'i gotta go!' and hung up on fen. i turned around to see my second born looking rather green and asking me for some water. i got her a water bottle then frantically turned to look for something for her to vomit in. mother intuition told me something was coming and this something wasn't going to be good.
as i scoured the car, i turned to see projectile puke containing peanut butter and jelly sandwich exploding from my child's face. it hit the back passenger seat, went down into the pocket, and also all over her lap (holy hell!). i grabbed for starbucks napkins from the glove box to clean up the mess as she was crying and complaining that a whole piece of crust came out of her nose (it did. i saw it with my own eyeballs.) in that moment i turned to look at my husband who was driving. the color had gone from his face and i could tell that he was questioning every life decision he had made to this point in regard to children. he said, "how bad is it?" i said, "it's pretty bad. it's everywhere." he hates when his car is messy on a normal day, but throw in some peanut butter regurgitation all over his leather seats (and down in the pocket) and we are now talking about veering off the road into a nearby lake.
i stifled my laughter about his reaction....and then heard my first born gagging and screaming. i slowly turned around to see the dog happily eating the vomit off of my child and the leather seat (it was, in fact, disgusting). the thrower of the puke was in some weird place of her own just staring at me and wondering what i was going to do next. i found a random towel, covered the puke, and gave her some water. we cracked the window and hoped for the best, as we still had 25 minutes to go and it was snowing heavily so we didn't want to stop. my husband didn't talk the rest of the trip. however, there wasn't much to say at this point other than, "did that really just happen?" she's never been carsick before, so this little trick was just there lying in wait for our fun little holiday jaunt. the most wonderful time of the year? i beg to differ. if you are a parent and have experienced consolation prizes such as these, i'm currently preaching to the choir. if you aren't and plan on being one...better stock up on puke bags, cause it's gonna be a bumpy ride.
we had grand plans of heading up north visit my sister in law, cause she was flying in with her new baby and our nephew for a visit from colorado. our own kids were counting down the days they would get to play with their cousins. we were also very excited to see them...however, the part we are never excited for is the traveling part. the packing, the driving, the sheer amount of time it takes to get a family of four and a dog out the door is a little ridiculous. actually, it's borderline insane. i will say that it is one billion (give or take) times easier than when they were babies, but it's still equal to a brain hemorrhage on a hot day (it blows). so we spent friday night packing up everything that we needed for our two day voyage, including the kitchen sink...everything except for the puke bags.
the first leg of the trip started off stellar...we set sail from maryland with not a care in the world and zero traffic to deal with. we left early due to impending snow, and made it to my parents house for a quick visit in record time. i felt like fist pounding my husband when we made it there so quickly and without incident (i should've known my elation would be short lived). then, he and i gallivanted around our hometown sans children, christmas shopping and such, while my parents hung out with the kids. my mom proceeded to fill their bellies with food and apple juice galore so they wouldn't be hungry for the second part of the trip to the poconos (the plan backfired, nanny). we made them go to the bathroom no less then 12 times before they left and we went on our way.
it was snowing pretty steadily at this point and the roads were a bit slick. both kids were wearing sweaters and boots and tightly strapped in the backseat with the dog between them. about 20 minutes into the 90 minute trip i decided to call fen and see what type of glorious things she was getting into on that fine saturday afternoon. turns out she was sipping wine and writing christmas cards...and i secretly cursed her from afar. suddenly i heard what seemed like a whine slash scream from the backseat and i yelled, 'i gotta go!' and hung up on fen. i turned around to see my second born looking rather green and asking me for some water. i got her a water bottle then frantically turned to look for something for her to vomit in. mother intuition told me something was coming and this something wasn't going to be good.
as i scoured the car, i turned to see projectile puke containing peanut butter and jelly sandwich exploding from my child's face. it hit the back passenger seat, went down into the pocket, and also all over her lap (holy hell!). i grabbed for starbucks napkins from the glove box to clean up the mess as she was crying and complaining that a whole piece of crust came out of her nose (it did. i saw it with my own eyeballs.) in that moment i turned to look at my husband who was driving. the color had gone from his face and i could tell that he was questioning every life decision he had made to this point in regard to children. he said, "how bad is it?" i said, "it's pretty bad. it's everywhere." he hates when his car is messy on a normal day, but throw in some peanut butter regurgitation all over his leather seats (and down in the pocket) and we are now talking about veering off the road into a nearby lake.
i stifled my laughter about his reaction....and then heard my first born gagging and screaming. i slowly turned around to see the dog happily eating the vomit off of my child and the leather seat (it was, in fact, disgusting). the thrower of the puke was in some weird place of her own just staring at me and wondering what i was going to do next. i found a random towel, covered the puke, and gave her some water. we cracked the window and hoped for the best, as we still had 25 minutes to go and it was snowing heavily so we didn't want to stop. my husband didn't talk the rest of the trip. however, there wasn't much to say at this point other than, "did that really just happen?" she's never been carsick before, so this little trick was just there lying in wait for our fun little holiday jaunt. the most wonderful time of the year? i beg to differ. if you are a parent and have experienced consolation prizes such as these, i'm currently preaching to the choir. if you aren't and plan on being one...better stock up on puke bags, cause it's gonna be a bumpy ride.
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
barge
so i have been barged in on in the bathroom no less than a billion times since my kids were born. hell, i remember having ella in the bouncy seat while i showered, cause if she was more than a stone's throw away from me she would start crying. there i was washing my ass as quickly as i could while playing peek-a-boo behind the shower curtain. you do weird shit when you have kids, that's just one of the things they didn't tell me about in the parenting books (shower curtain peek-a-boo). anyways, like i said, my kids have interrupted both showers and other bathroom business a billion times, but last night it was a bit different. last night my second born came bursting into the bathroom screaming and snot all over her face, cause she sucked a BEAD up her nostril...and it was stuck. it took me a second to process what the hell was happening, but as i sat down she came in the bathroom like a high school band at half time (cymbals blarin'). not far behind her was my first born...and my husband. mind you, i'm sitting on the TOILET and ella, who is like a first grade investigator, was like, "she sucked a bead up her nose..." and held out an example in her own hand. the bead was little, so i had fears of her snorting it so hard it would like go to her brain or something. i grabbed a wad of toilet paper and yelled, "BLOW!"
there is something weird about kids and blowing their noses, but most of them suck at it. they can do the old 1-2 wipe job, but blowing always poses a problem for some reason. anyways, i think panic took over and for the first time in her life, carrie decided it was time to blow the hell out of her nose. after about the fifth try, the bead came out in the tissue. her face was equal parts relieved and horrified. my face was equal parts relieved and everyone can get the hell out of the bathroom now. butch was still standing there dumbfounded and i realized my second born must've bypassed him (in the bedroom) and come straight to me (in the bathroom). i asked him later if she did that and he said, "no, she did come to me and i told her to go see her mother..." (sounds about right). after extraction, i asked carrie how the bead went up her nose in the first place and she said (and i quote), "i was trying to smell it." (what.) i said, "smell a plastic bead?" she said, "yes. it smells like nothin." (no shit!). in other news, i guess we can stop saving for harvard? (that was a close one.) so that's how monday evening played out in our house right before bedtime. bead extractions from the confines of the bathroom whilst peeing. if that sounds fun then parenting might be for you.
now. let me let you in on a little secret. last week both my husband and my kids had spring break from school...and my county was still in session. with the help of my in laws, butch took the kids to the beach. for the whole week. you wanna know what i was doing last monday? i was on a boat with a beer in one hand an the wind blowing through my hair...not making children blow beads out of their noses so they don't get lodged in their brain. people who knew they were leaving kept asking, "what are you gonna DO when they are gone?! what are you gonna DO!?" i wanted to answer, "wanna know what i'm NOT gonna do? i'm NOT gonna cook, do laundry, clean, pack lunches, pick up after people, help with homework, go to soccer, go to dance, wipe anyone's ass, make dinner, give baths, or go through a bedtime ritual. those are things i'm not gonna do." guess what? i found other shit to do. i went to a barbeque, went boating, got a pedicure, went for drinks, had wine on the back deck with fen, played kickball in DC...i did shit every day that they were gone. i found shit to do. i missed the hell out of their cute little faces, but i did not miss the hell out of all of the responsibility they bring. it was 5 full days of selfish gloriousness. this week i have spring break, so i'm kinda doing the stay at home mom thing, cause they are back in school. which is also quite glorious, minus the packing lunches part.
as an added bonus, in those 5 days they were gone, not one person barged in on me in the bathroom! little things you take for granted when you aren't parenting...like peeing alone. as soon as they came back on last friday, it was around noon. fen was here as they burst through the doors and ella's first words to me were, "i MISSED you mommy...can you make me some LUNCH!?" carrie piped in, "ME TOO! I'M HUNGRY and i gotta POOP, can you wipe me!?" fen took one look at me and sing songed, "they're BAAAAACCCKKK!" with a smirk on her face. when you have your first child, your life takes a crazy shift and suddenly you are responsible for another human 24 hours a day. as they get older, you are still responsible for them, but you get more breaks in between and it's not round the clock care (you can breathe). however, i wasn't warned prior to beginning my parenting journey that my kid might barge into the bathroom because she accidentally sucked a bead up her nose and needs my assistance to get it out (no warning). yesterday, on their last day of their spring break...i took both kids shopping, for lunch, and ice cream. later, prior to the bead incident, i did the soccer mom thing and took carrie to practice. i snapped this picture of her, and this smile is something i wouldn't give up for anything. moreover, now that we know harvard is off the table...maybe we can hope for a soccer scholarship somewhere? fingers crossed.
there is something weird about kids and blowing their noses, but most of them suck at it. they can do the old 1-2 wipe job, but blowing always poses a problem for some reason. anyways, i think panic took over and for the first time in her life, carrie decided it was time to blow the hell out of her nose. after about the fifth try, the bead came out in the tissue. her face was equal parts relieved and horrified. my face was equal parts relieved and everyone can get the hell out of the bathroom now. butch was still standing there dumbfounded and i realized my second born must've bypassed him (in the bedroom) and come straight to me (in the bathroom). i asked him later if she did that and he said, "no, she did come to me and i told her to go see her mother..." (sounds about right). after extraction, i asked carrie how the bead went up her nose in the first place and she said (and i quote), "i was trying to smell it." (what.) i said, "smell a plastic bead?" she said, "yes. it smells like nothin." (no shit!). in other news, i guess we can stop saving for harvard? (that was a close one.) so that's how monday evening played out in our house right before bedtime. bead extractions from the confines of the bathroom whilst peeing. if that sounds fun then parenting might be for you.
now. let me let you in on a little secret. last week both my husband and my kids had spring break from school...and my county was still in session. with the help of my in laws, butch took the kids to the beach. for the whole week. you wanna know what i was doing last monday? i was on a boat with a beer in one hand an the wind blowing through my hair...not making children blow beads out of their noses so they don't get lodged in their brain. people who knew they were leaving kept asking, "what are you gonna DO when they are gone?! what are you gonna DO!?" i wanted to answer, "wanna know what i'm NOT gonna do? i'm NOT gonna cook, do laundry, clean, pack lunches, pick up after people, help with homework, go to soccer, go to dance, wipe anyone's ass, make dinner, give baths, or go through a bedtime ritual. those are things i'm not gonna do." guess what? i found other shit to do. i went to a barbeque, went boating, got a pedicure, went for drinks, had wine on the back deck with fen, played kickball in DC...i did shit every day that they were gone. i found shit to do. i missed the hell out of their cute little faces, but i did not miss the hell out of all of the responsibility they bring. it was 5 full days of selfish gloriousness. this week i have spring break, so i'm kinda doing the stay at home mom thing, cause they are back in school. which is also quite glorious, minus the packing lunches part.
as an added bonus, in those 5 days they were gone, not one person barged in on me in the bathroom! little things you take for granted when you aren't parenting...like peeing alone. as soon as they came back on last friday, it was around noon. fen was here as they burst through the doors and ella's first words to me were, "i MISSED you mommy...can you make me some LUNCH!?" carrie piped in, "ME TOO! I'M HUNGRY and i gotta POOP, can you wipe me!?" fen took one look at me and sing songed, "they're BAAAAACCCKKK!" with a smirk on her face. when you have your first child, your life takes a crazy shift and suddenly you are responsible for another human 24 hours a day. as they get older, you are still responsible for them, but you get more breaks in between and it's not round the clock care (you can breathe). however, i wasn't warned prior to beginning my parenting journey that my kid might barge into the bathroom because she accidentally sucked a bead up her nose and needs my assistance to get it out (no warning). yesterday, on their last day of their spring break...i took both kids shopping, for lunch, and ice cream. later, prior to the bead incident, i did the soccer mom thing and took carrie to practice. i snapped this picture of her, and this smile is something i wouldn't give up for anything. moreover, now that we know harvard is off the table...maybe we can hope for a soccer scholarship somewhere? fingers crossed.
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
feral
so i'm at this glorious stage of parenting that entails school age children...and all their shenanigans. my doctorate in dirty diapers and late night feedings is hanging on the wall in my home office and i am currently working on my masters degree...in being a chauffeur and making lunches. soccer just started last week, so now monday and wednesday nights are filled with that (also saturday games). oh, and irish dance on tuesdays. keeping up with their schedules is a full time job. my kids are 4 and 6...and busier than me. which is really awesome since they don't have their drivers licenses. now look, i know there are other families that have like 234 extracurricular things to do...a lot more than 4 days a week. some of my mom friends are busy 7 (seven!) nights a week with school age children shenanigans. i'm not even mentioning homework, projects, papers that need to be filled out, packing lunches, feeding, bathing, putting them to bed...insert many other child chores here. let me say i have so much more respect for my own parents now in this regard. (kids are a pain in the private parts.) lest us not forget stuff like show and share for carrie on wednesdays and gym sneakers for ella on monday and friday...and also the "special" dress up days and class parties. the list goes on and on. if that sounds like fun then parenting might be for you. here is what our calendar looks like for april:
most of the time i think i'm on top of my shit as a mom...and most of the time i don't know my ass from a hole in the ground. however, i try to go day by day so i don't lose my shit. so when my kid brought home the most epic fail picture in the history of first grade, i could only laugh. i laughed hard. i laughed so hard that she heard me from the other room and came to ask me what i was laughing about (oh, balls.) i made something else up and i think she bought it, but i did ask what the hell happened to her hair?! for the record, i knew it was picture day that day, but i was only aware of group CLASS pictures. i wrote the $12 check, pulled her hair half up and sent her on her merry way. i even had "picture day" on the calendar. so when a picture that i've named "feral child gone wild in washington DC" showed up...i was a bit taken aback. i did NOT pick that background, it was the "preview" they sent, but when i pulled up the website there were many other backgrounds to choose from that were equally questionable. one of which looked like she just dropped acid and another one where there was a country wagon wheel? my favorite was just a white background that accentuated her wild child hair. but for real...why the hell does it look like she just rolled around in the tall grasses with julio down by the schoolyard!? i have no idea. if you didn't see the pic on social media...here you go:
so anyway, although i don't have babies at home, parenting starts taking all these other turns that no one tells you about. stuff like your kids schedules will trump your own on so many levels, and although it kinda sucks...it's kinda awesome. when ella was out on the soccer field for the first time the other night and i saw her running around, i immediately remembered all the fun times i had on the field as a kid. hell, i was no irish dancer, but seeing her and her sister learn a new jig each week is awesome, too. you start to live vicariously through your kids, and their happiness becomes your own. actually, when you have kids, you own their happiness, their sadness, their joy, and their disappointment. i think that's what's so hard about having kids in the first place. just keeping them alive is enough work...but wondering if you are doing it right is just plain exhausting. you do the best you can with what you have and hope for the best. that's all you can do. oh, and when you get a school picture like the one above, you laugh long and hard about your successes and failures as a parent. i think the most important thing i've learned in the past 7 (WHOA, i'm a PRO) years of parenting is this...don't take yourself too seriously. if you do, you will be caught up in the shenanigans and miss all the fun. sit back like an uber passenger on a friday night and enjoy the ride...cause rastafarian hair in a first grade photo is just the icing on a cake called parenthood. yeah mon!
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| see the 21st for a quick summary. |
Sunday, March 5, 2017
blood
so yesterday around noon a package arrived on our front porch and warren informed me that it was "a roof rack for his jeep." since we have said "no" to the minivan, when we travel our SUV looks something like a clown car. it's jam packed to the gills with all the stuff we need to take with us...including two kids and a dog. every square inch is utilized and i usually have some type of bag on my lap, under my feet, and inserted in my ass. forget trying to see out the back window out of caution, cause that's not happening either (completely packed). so anyway, he bought this roof rack to strap all our shit and shenanigans to the top of the car. i immediately had visions of our luggage flying all over northbound route 83 as i watched. i literally would not be surprised if a bungie cord snapped and this happened...cause stuff like that happens in our lives often. as my husband pulled all the pieces out of the big box and laid them across our living room, our offspring got to work playing with the magical piece of cardboard. they pretended it was a car, a boat, a coffin...and then began fighting over the plastic stuff (trash) that was inside. they were running like hell around the house screaming about who got more. about a bazillion toys in the house...but let's play with trash (par for the course). my parents, who were coming into town, happened to arrive in the middle of this show.
when they came in the house, parts of the roof rack were all over the floor and there were screws and metal everywhere. the kids were still running and screaming and letting their imaginations run wild with the trash slash box, as my mom and dad looked on. my dad then (shaking his head) disappeared upstairs to the guest room for an afternoon nap, my mom and i decided to take the kids for some frozen yogurt to get them out of the house (and end the screaming). after about an hour in on this project, butch was exasperated..and he was also like missing parts he needed and stuff. so we exited the premises and hopped on over to sweet frog. for some reason, the whole of my town had the same idea and the place was packed. we all made our sundaes and sat down. after a few seconds my phone rang. it was warren. the conversation went as follows. him: uh...you better come home right now. me: huh? him: i accidentally punched myself in the face...i'm bleeding everywhere. me: what?! him: OUR HOUSE LOOKS LIKE A CRIME SCENE YOU BETTER COME HOME RIGHT NOW. me: *head back, unable to breathe, in an ugly laugh with the phone away from my head so he can't hear* him: *hangs up* so my mom is sitting there staring at me and i said (barely able to speak), "so butch just punched himself in the face and we have to go home..." she jumps up, grabs the girls' coats, and rushes out to the car. although i was hoping he was okay, i kept laughing to myself thinking about him sucker punching...himself.
when we arrived back home, my dad was up from his nap...mopping up blood on our hardwood floor. i still hadn't laid eyes on warren, but there was blood on the porch, the couch, and my father was hard at work getting rid of any evidence with some pine sol and hot water. i said, "what the hell happened!?" to which my father started laughing hysterically and could not get his shit together. i said, "who punches themselves in the FACE!?" butch was in the kitchen looking bewildered as i walked around the corner. he had blood up to his elbows, the sink was filled with blood, paper towels stuffed up his nose, blood spatter on the dishwasher, the cabinets...the house really did look like a crime scene. so he then explained what happened...a story that involved a hammer, a screwdriver, and his own fist slipping and smashing into his own nose. when we established he was okay, i started cleaning up the blood that was all over the place. meanwhile, my dad is standing nearby gagging and telling me i missed some near the trashcan. my mom started a friendly game of monopoly with the girls...like this sort of thing is normal and happens all the time. both my parents asked butch if he was on blood thinners because of the magnitude of it all over the place. i replied that i gave birth two times and didn't see that much blood. so after a shower and a trip to the local bar, he seemed back to normal. he kept recapping his moe, larry, curly episode out loud, which would make all of us laugh all over again. laughter keeps us going around here, cause without it we would be lost. remind me of that when our luggage is in full flight all over northbound 83 as i look on. pretty sure i'll be the one punching myself in the face at that point. on purpose.
when they came in the house, parts of the roof rack were all over the floor and there were screws and metal everywhere. the kids were still running and screaming and letting their imaginations run wild with the trash slash box, as my mom and dad looked on. my dad then (shaking his head) disappeared upstairs to the guest room for an afternoon nap, my mom and i decided to take the kids for some frozen yogurt to get them out of the house (and end the screaming). after about an hour in on this project, butch was exasperated..and he was also like missing parts he needed and stuff. so we exited the premises and hopped on over to sweet frog. for some reason, the whole of my town had the same idea and the place was packed. we all made our sundaes and sat down. after a few seconds my phone rang. it was warren. the conversation went as follows. him: uh...you better come home right now. me: huh? him: i accidentally punched myself in the face...i'm bleeding everywhere. me: what?! him: OUR HOUSE LOOKS LIKE A CRIME SCENE YOU BETTER COME HOME RIGHT NOW. me: *head back, unable to breathe, in an ugly laugh with the phone away from my head so he can't hear* him: *hangs up* so my mom is sitting there staring at me and i said (barely able to speak), "so butch just punched himself in the face and we have to go home..." she jumps up, grabs the girls' coats, and rushes out to the car. although i was hoping he was okay, i kept laughing to myself thinking about him sucker punching...himself.
when we arrived back home, my dad was up from his nap...mopping up blood on our hardwood floor. i still hadn't laid eyes on warren, but there was blood on the porch, the couch, and my father was hard at work getting rid of any evidence with some pine sol and hot water. i said, "what the hell happened!?" to which my father started laughing hysterically and could not get his shit together. i said, "who punches themselves in the FACE!?" butch was in the kitchen looking bewildered as i walked around the corner. he had blood up to his elbows, the sink was filled with blood, paper towels stuffed up his nose, blood spatter on the dishwasher, the cabinets...the house really did look like a crime scene. so he then explained what happened...a story that involved a hammer, a screwdriver, and his own fist slipping and smashing into his own nose. when we established he was okay, i started cleaning up the blood that was all over the place. meanwhile, my dad is standing nearby gagging and telling me i missed some near the trashcan. my mom started a friendly game of monopoly with the girls...like this sort of thing is normal and happens all the time. both my parents asked butch if he was on blood thinners because of the magnitude of it all over the place. i replied that i gave birth two times and didn't see that much blood. so after a shower and a trip to the local bar, he seemed back to normal. he kept recapping his moe, larry, curly episode out loud, which would make all of us laugh all over again. laughter keeps us going around here, cause without it we would be lost. remind me of that when our luggage is in full flight all over northbound 83 as i look on. pretty sure i'll be the one punching myself in the face at that point. on purpose.
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