Another Visit to Vomit Town

As I write this, my poor little seven year old boy lies next to me on the couch. (Crap. Is it lays, lies, lay? Man, I know we went over this in high school English. Ugh.) He is moaning in his sleep, flush faced and trying desperately to sleep off a 102.6 fever. Poor thing. At least he finally ate something. And kept it down.

Last night, he refused to eat dinner. This morning, he refused breakfast. While the rest of us ate our bowls of oatmeal, he threw up in the kitchen trash can. I could hear my daughter dry heaving a room away. Nothing like that lovely sound. But, here’s the thing – I think I’ve lost my other-people-vomiting gag reflex. For two weeks straight now, I’ve cleaned up some sort of mess off the couch or out of the carpet. And yet, no gagging. Odd. I even watched the dog barf the other day. Nothing. (By the way – if you pour white vinegar over the stain, sprinkle it with baking soda and leave it a few days to dry, the stain will vacuum right up.)

This lack of other-people-vomiting gag reflex leads me to believe I am either one of two things: A really bizarre Superhero or a mother. Yep. Well, you caught me. I’m not wearing a cape. In fact, I’m wearing an oversized sweater that my son said looked like a weird dress. That must make me a mom. The cleaner upper, make-me-better, hold my hand, put a cool rag on my head, bring me water mom.

After two weeks in Vomit Town, I may be no super hero, but I’m pretty sure I might soon be named mayor.

Here’s hoping you steer clear of this stomach bug. Believe me, you don’t want to run against me for this job.

My Kid is Special: Perfect Parent Vision

Have you ever watched that video of the toddler making basket after basket? The kid is a basketball superstar. And he’s still in diapers. How about the five-year old piano prodigy? Then there’s the slew of videos of two-year olds singing the alphabet. YouTube is a great bragging ground for parents wanting to shout from the rooftops (or the security of their own homes) how wonderful their kid is.

So… as one of my friends/readers asks, are we blinded by the talent our kids? Do we over inflate their skills because we’re just too close to the situation?

She gives this example:

“Yesterday my baby hit the button in this little music toy that plays classical music….. I saw her start waving her hand like she was conducting the music ie a musical prodigy in the making…….. When really anyone else might have called it “flailing” or just an involuntary baby movement. I have some other momma friends with kids the same age as mine and they are always saying “so and so is doing this or saying this” then I see the kid do it and think ” really???” LoL
We all say that every child is different, learns at their own pace, blah blah blah but secretly we all want our kid to be better, smarter, faster, then the other kids.”

What do you think? Ever examined a finger painting brought home from preschool and thought you had a little Picasso on your hands? Or did your toddler start singing along with the radio and you just knew she’d be the next Adele? Do we over do it when it comes to our perception of our kids talents?

Babies and Puppies

When I was a full-time news producer, I had a task of finding what we called a “kicker” on a daily basis. You know these stories: the feel good 30 seconds of your day that ends the newscast after you’ve heard all the horribly depressing details of the world. I often jokingly called these the “cat fashion show” kinds of stories. These are the ones where the world wouldn’t come to a crashing halt if they didn’t exist, but they make you smile nonetheless.

If we needed a kicker, you could always count on a story that contained one of two things: babies or puppies. Okay, fine, kittens count too. Heck, any small creature works well there. Oh, and if you can somehow combine babies with small animals, even better.

You can trust me on this. Don’t believe me? Go scroll your Facebook feed for a moment. I’ll wait.

Did you check? I was right, wasn’t I? Your feed had at least one baby, kid or animal picture in it, didn’t it?

So… imagine my surprise when I tried to share a video of my youngest with two of my coworkers. They actually walked away. Briskly. WITHOUT EVEN WATCHING IT! And, I’m not trying to brag, but this was one darn cute video. (My son’s rendition of the ABCs, which now contains the letter ‘J’… and a lot of it.)

These coworkers do not have kids. And while I can understand them not wanting to delve into that world… COME ON! I look at pictures of their pets and stuff!

Folks… are we asking too much of our non-parent friends to look at pictures of our kids?

Brightly Speckled Carpets

We just moved into our new house a couple of weeks ago. Our new house with light cream-colored carpet. It was bound to happen. And so it did.

My three-year old son was sent home sick yesterday with a fever. 102.6. He complained of a stomach ache. You’re thinking about my cream-colored carpet, aren’t you? Nope – wait for it. Not yet. I took him home and after some medicine, he was feeling a tad better. He went to sleep and woke up several times throughout the night not feeling well. You’re thinking about my new carpet again, aren’t you? Patience, my friend, patience.

After several hours spent tossing and turning, the alarm clock finally went off, although we were already awake. He’d woken up a few minutes before that, crying. This time he was saying his neck hurt really bad. Now, I don’t want to be “that” mom but I have been known to frequent WebMD a little too much. Darn symptom checker is addictive. Anyway, I have gotten away from all that and now play it case by case, child by child. However, I do know that neck pain and a fever are not a good combo, so when I called the doctor and they said they needed me to bring him in right away, just in case he had meningitis, I didn’t hesitate to make an appointment.

As we prepared to get out the door to his doctor appointment, my little three-year old bundle of unhappiness sat on the couch moaning. Then, it happened. The couch got it. The carpet got it. Did I mention the only thing he’d eaten in the last 12 hours was bright-colored gummy treats? My cream carpet now looks like an Easter egg exploded on it.

Oh, and I made the rookie mistake of pulling the T-shirt he was wearing over his head. It. Was. Everywhere.

After throwing up, his fever came down and now he says he’s feeling much better, although he’s been sleeping for the last two hours. Poor little monkey.

I’ll probably regret this, but what’s the nastiest thing that’s happened to your carpet?

Elvis has left the building

A girlfriend of mine left the state last summer, headed for, literally, greener pastures in California. She now lives with her family on a farm in a very rural area. She already had goats but now she’s added chickens to the mix.

Her kids were involved with the care and keeping of the goats, even entering (and winning) at the AK state fair. So, I assume she was expecting similar family fun when it came to her fine feathered friends. This probably would have been the case with her flock of seven chickens – if said chickens would have all been female, as she was told they were. Turns out, three of the seven were boy chickens. Apparently, in chicken-rearing, it’s vitally important to have a ratio of more like one male to 20 or so females. And when that ratio is off-balance, oh boy. Stand back.

As my friend soon discovered, the male-female ratio can cause pretty big problems. Namely, the males get cranky. She complained about her situation to a friend. He made the following offer: “If you don’t mind what happens to them, I could take care of the situation for you.” She said she’d think about it. Fast forward a few days and a few incidents later. The main trouble making male – Elvis – had not only pecked at her legs, but also flew up and scratched her son in the face. Enough was enough. She called in her friend who took care of the problem.

A week or so later, her friend approached her at church with a freezer bag, “Turns out Elvis was mostly dark meat.” Elvis is now in the deep freeze.

I’d like to say the story was different for the other two males and that they learned their lesson. But, boys will be boys. Big Sam and Mickey were on their way to a new pen in the sky. Big Sam made it to the dinner table. But, Mickey wasn’t big enough. His scrawny stature led him to a neighbor’s home. (I think that’s called Witness Protection…)

Maybe it’s the names, or the way she “had a guy” who “took care” of the situation, but something about this screams Vegas mafia. Is it just me?

The Bunny Blunder

Sometimes, just sometimes, the mythical fairies and figures our children believe in fall through. This weekend was one of those times.

We all know it was the Easter Bunny who was supposed to bring the basket. But, in the midst of Easter weekend – something happened and we forgot another aspect of Easter morning.

We went to an Easter egg hunt at our church Saturday afternoon and attended Easter service that night. During dinner, my seven-year old suddenly spit out a mouth full of food. As I was about to chastise him for such rude behavior, I realized something was amiss.

“My footh!” he shouted/mumbled.

“What?!” I was asking, when he repeated, more clearly this time:

“MY TOOTH! MY TOOTH FELL OUT!”

I should explain, we were eating Italian sausage. There was an archeological expedition-style dig for his tooth, led by his sister. Success. She found it, fished it out and put it in a ziplock bag – tradition in our house. (The bag, not the dig.)

So, my kids went to bed Saturday night, psyched not just for the Easter bunny, but also for the Tooth Fairy to arrive. When they woke Sunday morning (way too early, by the way) they found the Easter basket loaded with candy. They found the tooth money. But, it’s what they didn’t find that really got their attention. There were no eggs hidden throughout the house. Silly me, I thought since they’d done that Saturday, there was no need to hide eggs. Boy, was I wrong.

Any person who called on Easter was met with the same sad story as told by my seven-year old son, “The Easter bunny didn’t hide any eggs. I don’t know why he would do that!”

Mid day, it became obvious I would have to find an answer to that question. And so I did.

“Mom, WHY didn’t the Easter bunny hide any eggs at our house?”

“Well, you know how you lost a tooth last night?”

“Yeah.”

“The Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy are pretty good friends, but they hardly ever get to see each other.” I began.

“Okay…” he responded, interested.

“So, when they do get to see each other, they get to talking. And before they knew it, a lot of time had passed. And since they knew they were running out of time and had lots of other kids to visit – they decided they’d have to figure something out.”

My son sat silently watching me, listening.

I continued, “The Tooth Fairy told the bunny just to leave, that the Tooth was more important. The bunny told the Tooth Fairy to leave, that his job was more important. They both started to get a little annoyed with the other. So, they came up with a compromise: The Tooth Fairy could take the tooth and leave the money and the Easter Bunny could leave the basket, but there was just no time for him to hide the eggs. They’d have to move on, to cover all the other houses and all the other kids.”

“Hmm,” he said.

Not much more was said – to me – about the incident, but he continued to tell anyone who would listen about the Easter Bunny Blunder.

Yes, it was an elaborate tale. But, he’s seven and I didn’t want to say, “Well, I forgot.” So.. yeah.

How was your Easter?

Who Asked You?! The Woes of Unsolicited Parenting Advice

We’ve all been there. You watch a parent struggling with their unruly kid and you think, “Oh man, you are doing that wrong.” But, at what point should you actually open your mouth and say something, especially if it’s a friend?

A friend recently asked me that question. A friend of her’s asked – openly – what he should do differently to tame his “little monster.”

Friends gave the typical advice:

• Watch Super Nanny
• Read “The Strong Willed Child”
• Use reward charts
• Be consistent

It was that last piece of advice that seems to be the sticking point with this particular parent. It is apparent that this parent is not sticking to his guns. So, my friend asks, should she be blunt with him and tell him that in order to get his kid to listen and behave, he’s going to have to put more effort in, too?

Luckily, I have some pretty too-the-point blunt brutally-honest friends. One caught me in the act once. I was complaining about how my kids just don’t listen when it’s time to leave. She said, “Well, let’s see… you’ve told them five times that it’s time to go and yet, here you stand, talking to me. If it’s time to go, it’s time to go. YOU need to set the stage and be consistent.” It was a tough thing to hear, but I needed to hear it.

What do you think? When should you speak up and give the parenting advice you know your friends really need to hear?

Easter is Coming! 7 Tips for Easter Eggs

For Christians, Easter is supposed to be a bigger deal than Christmas. The bunny’s involvement still kinda baffles me…

Growing up Byzantine Catholic, the hard-core creative types made Pysanky, which involves wax, patience and a steady hand.

Image courtesy Wikipedia.

Although my dad did this very well when I was a kid – and I have the kit to do it myself – I am, in a word, intimidated. I tend to  stick to the old grocery store kit.

However, this weekend I found an idea on Facebook. (Don’t so many good ideas come from there?) It’s essentially a tie-dye egg made with shaving cream.

Photo Courtesy: Theresa Murphy Chevalier

 

Of course, that cool technique had me scouring Pinterest for other cool ideas:

7 Easter Egg Dying Tips has everything from neon to embroidery to rubber bands.

Leaf print Easter eggs are pretty cool looking.

Natural Easter egg dying seems to involve things like coffee, onions and chili powder – not together, of course. That just sounds like a recipe for heart burn!

Help for little hands shows a way to get your kiddo involved, without cracked shells.

More tips for kids has the help of a colander.

 

Let me know if you use any of these! Send me your pictures and tips and share them with the class!

 

 

 

 

A New Home

We’ve done it. It’s official. We sold our old house and have moved in to our new one. I say we’ve moved in, but in reality, we are living out of boxes. In fact, I still have an entire load of stuff in the back of my truck that we have not yet taken out. We’ll get there… eventually.

The kids are settling in well to the new house. The boys will share a room. They seem okay with that. My daughter slept in her own room last night with no complaints. She had her own room at the old house, but it was on a different floor and she wouldn’t sleep away from her brothers. Last night, she crawled right into her bed and didn’t make a peep. In fact, none of them did.

Our new house is one-third the size as our old place. It’s cozy and I love it! However, there are certain logistical obstacles to overcome. Mainly – we have too much crap. Especially the kids. Our daughter is okay in her room, but the boys are at that age where all their toys are big and clunky. We’ve narrowed it down to legos, Lincoln logs, race cars, art supplies, books and a bin of random. Not sure what we are going to do to make it all fit. Bunk beds, most likely.

My best friend came over last week and we culled the toys substantially. She took away an entire truck load of toys. It makes me ill, thinking about all that stuff. It was all stuff they hardly ever played with. Hopefully, some child will one day.

This got me thinking about the toys I had as a child.  I had a vast stuffed animal collection, of which my favorite was Scrungy. Barbies also took over much of my room. My prized possession was my talking Teddy Ruxpin doll my brother bought me one Christmas. By far, my favorite toy ever. Not sure what happened to the Barbies, Teddy or the stuffed animals – but I still have Scrungy to this day. (Thanks, mom, for keeping him safe!)

Each of my kids has a stuffed animal they love, dearly. What toy, if you could only bring one, would you have taken as a child? Do you still have that toy to this day?

 

Oh, what a night…

Now that I have that song stuck in your head…

My evening with my children was… interesting… to say the least. The first day back to our house after spending time over at their dad’s is always a rough transition – as I imagine it as when they go back to his house after being at our home. Last night was no different.

All three kids wanted to watch a movie. We try to limit screen time, so they asked, instead, if we could play a game. Everyone was fine with this – except my three-year old. My refusal to let him watch a movie combined with my refusal to let him have a second juice box was just too much for him to take. He laid down on the ground – kicking, screaming, banging his fists and shouting into the floorboards, “I HATE MOMMY!” Oh joy. Those are always the words a mom/dad wants to hear. Gee, thanks.

I picked his flailing little body up and carried him to his room, fists and feet a flying. I told him he was being nasty and shut the door, telling him he could come out when he could calm himself down and apologize. Fast forward through a lot more screaming and sobbing… and he tells me he’s sorry for saying he hates me. Over juice.

My 10-year-old daughter, meanwhile, gets reprimanded for sneaking food off her plate – after being told, repeatedly, to wait. My seven-year old son then polished off the night by asking me if I was around when Noah’s Ark was built.

So.. how was your evening?