You Can't Make This Stuff Up

The weekend began yesterday pleasantly enough. Beautiful day, lots of swimming and floating and cold beverages. We had dinner with our friends last night (Fine! It was our doctor friends! Geez, twist my arm...) so I made caramel brownies yesterday. We had to leave at 5:30 and the brownies were taken out to cool at 5. A few minutes after I took them out, Jack told me that it looked like someone had gotten into them. I raced over there and sure enough:

I literally had to take a moment. The stirring, the melting, the pouring...all gone. I looked over at Noah, who had a ring of chocolate around his mouth.  He looked at me and said innocently "What?"

We had to rush to get ready, now that we had a trip to the store for dessert tacked onto the evening. When I was curling my hair, Noah came into our room and said to Matt "My underwear is wet."

To which I called out "I hope it's soaked with the tears of your guilt!"

Tali needed her diaper changed and as I lifted her sweet little leg, I realized that the extent of her diaper contents were much more, well, extensive than I originally thought. I followed the trail down her leg...to the ankle I was holding.

Sigh.

We had a lovely dinner with our friends (Jack got to see his good buddy the cardiologist) and headed home and went to bed. I woke up at 2:40 am.

That time is burned in my mind.

I woke up and thought "What is that strange feeling?" Oh yeah, it's nausea. I rushed to the bathroom, the stomach virus working its way quickly through my insides. By the time I got back to bed, my stomach was in knots. Wearily I pulled a blanket and pillow from the closet and settled in on the couch. Much as I tried to sleep, the constant trips to the bathroom prevented it. I had to call in sick for work this morning. Which I hate to do, as I actually enjoy what I do for the most part. Interacting with adults and sticking needles into people while getting paid? Yessiree, good times. But these types of bodily functions are frowned upon unless you are a patient.

Because my stomach hurts so badly, I haven't slept since 2 this morning. Well, 2:40.

The thing about stomach bugs is that it makes you really contemplate life. Maybe not so much life but certainly death. You think "Is this how it's going to end, me calling out for more Charmin and whispering for the sweet release of death?" You also wonder at some point how much more can possibly be left inside you. But then I remembered Jack telling me there's like 25 feet of intestines so hope fades pretty fast.

Matt left for church with the oldest three and I kept Tali with me. She ate Nilla wafers and laughed and snuggled up next to me while we watched banal sitcoms.

Around 10:30 I felt my leg getting warm, right where Tali was snuggled up. Oh yes, you know where this is headed. Diarrhea. On her dress, on my pants, on the blanket, the pillow behind her. That diaper was no match, really. I stared at her in horror for a moment. She bit into a wafer and smiled at me.

I rushed to get her into the bath and then ran around gathering up the soiled items. It was at that moment I got one of the intermittent hot flashes that often accompany sickness. I was sweating and panicking. I basically stripped off my shirt (my pants were already in the laundry) and rushed to put my hair up because I couldn't stand one more moment of it touching me. And that's how I did laundry.

Not my finest moment.

Later in bed I was curled up on my side when I felt a little fluttering. My first thought was "Oh, how sweet!" Then I remembered I'm not pregnant and that was just my insides trying to get outside.

Earlier in the afternoon I took a swig of Scope to get rid of that awful taste. Not wanting to germify the rim, I carefully poured it into my mouth. Normally I'm pretty good at this sort of thing, like when you lose the little cup that comes with the Nyquil or Pepto Bismol. Today? Not so much. Peppermint Scope all down my tank top. Let me tell you something - Peppermint Scope on skin? Burns like an Irish girl in the sun.

I told Matt he had to bring me things and tell me I'm pretty. Which he did with only the slightest of hesitations, slowly backing away from our plague-ridden bed.

So that was my day. My evening is pretty packed, a lot of saltine eating and staring glassy-eyed at nothing in particular is on the docket.

It's safe to say the weekend has been on a downward trajectory as of late - now where's the bottle of Nyquil, the one with no cup...

Discussions with Jack

While living with two two year olds certainly has its challenges, parenting school-aged children is no walk in the park either. Jack has all the argumentative skills of a campaigning politician. This was what went down in the kitchen this evening:

Matt: "Ok, you guys are no longer allowed to use the sink sprayer. You're getting water everywhere. You don't know how to use it properly."

Jack: "Actually, I do know how to use it and what it's for. It's for washing dishes."

Matt: " Just because you know how something works doesn't mean you are able to use something the right way. For instance, you know how a car works but you aren't ready or able to drive one yet. There are things you don't know about the sprayer.

(And here Matt starts making things up)

We as adults think of things you don't. You don't know about the drain capacity, the water pressure in the hose, what sort of valve is in the sprayer..."

Jack (completely serious): "Well, it's probably a butterfly valve."

Matt started laughing because he wasn't expecting Jack to start naming correct valve terminology (which we later confirmed on Google). So Matt had to act like he was laughing over how absurd Jack's suggestion was: "A butterfly valve? No, no, no..."

But he was thinking "What the hell's a butterfly valve?"

In the end, it was a draw.

Saturday's Vows and Sippy Cups

My older sister got married on Saturday to a great guy. I try not to post pictures of other people here for a couple reasons: 1) I don't want to forget to get somebody's permission or for it to cause problems and 2) my family is insanely good looking so they're pretty much all I need anyway.

Rest assured, my sister was gorgeous and the day was wonderful, despite a drizzly start to the ceremony.

Kate and I left the house at 7:30 to get to the town at 9 for manicures with the bridesmaids. Kate tagged along as the only flower girl who was both old enough to come and also interested. My goodness, was she excited. Neither of us had had a manicure so that was fun to do it together. She sat like a prim and proper lady. I started mine after hers and while the lady was massaging lotion onto my arms and hands, Kate turned around in her chair and said excitedly "That happened to me too!"

The other ladies got french tips but Kate wanted us to match with mint colored sparkly nails. So we did.

Ok, so my sister is in the background of this one. Rule #1? Broken

 We went out to lunch and then helped set up for the ceremony and get ready. At one point I went to the bathroom and stood in front of the sink for about 20 seconds with my hands in front of the faucet, waiting for it to turn on. Eventually I realized that it was a manual sink and not an automatic one. It's times like those I console myself with the fact that Princess Buttercup did not recognize her one true love for several scenes simply because he was wearing a black mask over his eyes. Nothing in his build, voice, or face tipped her off. I think about that and then I don't feel so bad.

Matt brought the other three kids an hour before the ceremony and I got the kids dressed. Tali and Kate were both flower girls. Tali's dress had glitter in the skirt so Matt and I were covered by the end of the night. I felt super glamorous, even if it was unintentional.

One of the more interesting events of the day involved Noah and a sippy cup. I moseyed over to the table where Matt and the kids sat. Matt, my long-suffering husband, sat at the table with about 7 kids. He mentioned that he filled Noah's sippy cup with juice. Noah took a drink and pronounced that he didn't like it. Matt took a swig and realized that he had filled the cup with SPIKED PUNCH. Thank goodness he didn't plow ahead drinking it, although it might have helped his dancing - jumping, stomping around to songs, clapping erratically.

Matt knows he owes me one slow dance at a wedding, despite the fact that he really doesn't enjoy dancing. Being the professional financial advisor that he is, he spends his time at receptions in thoughtful reflection.  Kate and I? Will dance the Funky Chicken, do the Macarena, and even make fools of ourselves in a line dance. Matt and Jack? Will sit stoically at a table, sipping drinks and trying not to make eye contact with anyone dancing. The hokey pokey came on and I was trying to engage Jack. "Jack, it's about body parts! You put your left ventricle in, you put your left ventricle out..." He shut his eyes and shook his head, saying "I can't even talk to you."

So when a slow song came on, Matt led me out to the floor. He began changing the lyrics to John Legend's All of Me, softly crooning "I'll be the one to mitigate your risk, to diversify your portfolio..."

We were laughing about it later and Kate said "You guys are so weird."

Which is basically what a successful marriage is all about - being weird together.

Matt took the little kids home around 8 pm. I took Jack, Kate, and my 5 year old niece home around 9. The girls fell asleep almost immediately in the back, drooling on their fancy dresses. Jack settled into the front seat for a very long, one sided discussion on why the Titanic sank. The iceberg reports, the knots, the valves. Oh mylanta, the details. I don't have a smart phone so I had the directions home printed out on a piece of paper. It was dark and I was snaking my way home on country roads. I couldn't find the ceiling lights in Matt's car so I had to flip my mirror down to see my paper.

Jack: "According to my research, Captain Smith should've been traveling at (some number) knots but instead he was going at (some other number) knots. This was despite the fact that several ice bergs have been reported in the area. I know this because I've watched Why Ships Sink on Nova like 52 times."

Me (with white knuckles gripping the steering wheel, trying to make out every road sign): "If you don't just sit quietly for a little bit and let me concentrate, you're going to find out why cars crash."

We made it home and had a whirlwind of a day the next day, Sunday. It was Kate's 7th birthday and we had women's breakfast at church, a tea/swim party with 10 girls in the afternoon, and a dinner with our best friends and Matt's parents. Kate used her birthday money from Matt's parents to buy everyone in the family a present, picking out exactly what we all liked. Oh what a sweet girl is this.

So that was our weekend. Much love to my sister and our new brother for this crazy thing called marriage and wishes of a happy 7th year to our lovely little lady.

Of Illnesses and Genetics

One Sick Mother

I'm on the recovering end of a cold this week. The cold itself wasn't too terribly awful, just the usual sore throat, sneezing, coughing, chills, blah, blah, blah. But I happened to be experiencing women's difficulties at the same time so the fatigue was incredible. My body just basically threw in the towel - "What, you expect us to fight off a virus while losing precious iron? Forget it, we're shutting down."

Exercise?   No.
Personal appearance?   Shoddy at best.
Level of caring?    Negative.

I just didn't want to move. I wanted to lie on the couch all day, reading historical novels and watching House, until it was time to fall into a Nyquil-induced slumber. And really, that's one of the worst things about being a mom - no one's there to take care of you because it's your job to take care of everyone else. It's right up there with with pushing big-headed children out of your delicate lady bits and catching someone else's vomit in your own hands while soothing them with "It's ok, it's alright..."

Matt tried to help, letting me sleep in as late as I wanted and bringing home pizzas for dinner and such but someone had to go to work so I could continue to live in the way to which I've become accustomed. Every morning I would give the same speech:

"Mommy is sick and she doesn't feel good. Please be good and watch out for the little kids, ok?"

They would nod solemnly and then go about their usual business of poking each other and getting into the nail polish.

Exhibit A:

We've watch countless movies this week, including an introduction into the wonder that is The Neverending Story." You know you're firmly entrenched in adulthood by the way you react to Disney movies:
\
Watching The Little Mermaid as a child:  "Why is her dad so mean? She's 16 for crying out loud! She's practically an adult and can make her own choices?

Watching The Little Mermaid as an adult: "Why is she so selfish and disobedient? Her dad is only trying to keep her from making bad decisions. She's 16 for crying out loud! She's practically a baby!

Also, Ursula calls Ariel a little tramp, a line that went completely over my head as a kid.

My saving grace was that I have no school this week. I'm particularly thankful that my nutrition class is over. It was slightly uncomfortable to write scathing remarks on the evils of sugar while eating a Cadbury egg.

Question: How bad is sugar?
Answer: On the spectrum of evil, it falls somewhere between the restrooms at Walmart and Hitler.

Also, I ended the class with an A. I may celebrate with some ice cream. In your face, Nutrition Professor!

These Are Not My Children

All parents have those moments of "Who are you?" when it comes to their children and I am no exception. Kate loves to clean and cook and I thank my lucky stars everyday for that. She makes the salads, she cleans the toilets, she vacuums. Matt and I look forward to the day when she will be making all the meals (and so is she). The other day I told the kids to go clean their rooms and she came back with a list she had made:

Floor, dressers, vacuum, beds, shelf, closet, and check up.

At least I'm pretty sure she meant shelf. Although self is good to keep clean as well. She told me she wrote "Check up" at the bottom so she would be sure to check her work at the end. She then bounded happily back to her room to clean and check her list. 

I just don't know who she is sometimes.

Likewise, how Jack emerged from my loins is also a mystery. He's watching this high school biology DVD course I bought and although I find it pretty dry, he really likes it. Like it's a treat for him to be able to watch it. While going through the aquatic animals the other night, he called me over for every single animal's organ layout. He would excitedly point out the air bladder and intestines and such. Here he is, wearing a train conductor hat, pointing out the body parts to a starfish:

And then last week I was reading our Middle Ages history book and read a passage on Galileo. The story goes that he went to the top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa and dropped two objects with different weights. I read "One weight was heavier than the other, and according to old theories about the way the universe worked, this heavier weight should have landed first."

It was here that Jack looked up from his Legos and said "No, that's not right. They would land at the same time and let me tell you why." He then launched into a passionate tirade about the force of gravity being the same and something about physics. At one point he said "You see, it all comes back to E=mc2."

I just don't know about my kids sometimes. I really don't.