You give me fever

In eighth grade, three of my cousins came to live with us for a year. My cousin, Meagan, and I had always had a pretty unique, sisterly kind of bond even before she came to stay, so having her there for a year was like having a real sister for a time. We laughed, we fought, she took my clothes…

One thing Meagan and I always conspired to do together was try to get sick at the same time. If either one of us started to feel bad, we would drink out of the same cup, chew each other’s gum (I know, gross), cough in each other’s face in an attempt to both end up sick at the same time so we could stay home from school together.

It worked more times than it didn’t.

This is the part where you start to pity my mom.

One of the times we did this compeltely backfired when we both ended up with the nastiest case of strep throat imaginable. We were not enjoying our time off together. In fact, we kind of thought we were dying together.

We ran such high fevers that my mom had a mild freak out and we all trekked to the doctor, Meagan and I moaning the entire way there. Her fever was in the high 105’s, mine was in the 104’s. And we had done this to one another.

So maybe it’s a bit of cosmic payback that I have children who run fevers that settle in the rafters. I dunno, but last night as I cradled my daughter’s feverish body, her temp measured 105.5. Cue freaking out. Cold bath, cool rag on the forehead, medicine. All of it worked together to bring her fever down to…


Not good enough. More medicine, another cold rag and a bit of prayer seemed to help. I laid down with her in bed, her little body all shaky and achy. “Mom,” she croaked. “I had a scary dream.”

“What was your dream?”

“I dreamed that I was dying.”

Cue double freak out. Poor, sweet baby girl.

We prayed and she quickly fell asleep. When I checked on her about an hour and a half later, the fever had broken. Of course she woke up at 3:00 hot again. She snuggled up next to me in bed and it felt like spooning a radiator. She talked in her sleep and I held her hot little hand. Together we weathered a long, fitful night.

This morning her fever is low and her eyes less glassy.

And this Mama, though exhausted, is quite relieved.

I also feel the need to apologize to my mom for giving her multiple heart attacks over the years when I spiked high fevers. So I guess this is where some of the grey hair comes from?

Anybody else have kids who like to run super high fevers?

The one where I confess a lack of mercy

I’ve taken a hundred personality tests in my life. If that’s an exaggeration, it’s only just barely one.

Okay FINE! I’ve only taken ten or twelve personality tests in my life, but it might as well be a hundred because they always say the same daggum thing.

The first time I really remember being subjected to the personality test was as a junior in high school. The test was administered and the results dissected and given to me in bullets.

– You like to take charge.

– You are skilled at leading and teaching.

– You like to be center of attention. (DUH!)

– You are a go getter. (Holla!)

– You lack grace. (Hmph.)

– You scored very low on mercy.

Awesome. So basically I’m a scary fame whore who will conquer the world at the expense of anyone in my path.

Wanna be my friend?

In college I took the test that determines your personality based on four different animals. There is the Lion, the Golden Retriever, the Otter and the Beaver. Guess which category I undeniably fit into. Go ahead…just take a stab at it.

LION! You were right. You guys are paying attention. A Lion personality possesses the following strengths and weaknesses:

Strengths– Visionary, practical, productive, strong-willed, independent, decisive, leader.

Weaknesses– Cold, domineering, unemotional self-sufficient, unforgiving, sarcastic, cruel.

I am a Lioness. Sleek. Shiney. Cold and Cruel? Can I buy a new personality somewhere?

Incidentally, I married a Golden Retreiver; calm, easy going, dependable, humorous, prone to fearfulness and worry and slightly indecisive. Everybody loves a Golden Retriever. And everyone loves my husband.

Apparently I just want to attack him.

So mercy is not high on my list of giftedness. My natural tendency is walk on by. Just ask my husband.

Wait…you know what. Forget that. Don’t ask him. No need to bring him into this, right? *nervous laughter*

I know that Mercy isn’t my first reaction and dangit if I don’t fight the battle. I am extremely empathetic and am prone to fits of blubbery tearfulness when presented someone else’s pain. I cry hard, I cry ugly and I feel deep.

But that’s more compassion and empathy. Mercy? Well, that’s a different story. Lion’s don’t operate under the umbrella of mercy. It’s not in our primal nature. And I am a Lion…ness. I work on my Lion-y tendencies every single day and I’ve made great strides. However…

Just read the following under that context.

Sloan has been laid up on the couch for the last couple of days with a fever and nasty chest cold. He shakes and quivers from the high temps and he has alternated between achy and nauseous. I want to feel sorry for him. I do. Because he’s my son and lioness or not, I’m still a Mama.

But I’m also a Lion.


So today, despite the fact that his fever broke, he was still tired enough that he spent most of the day lying on my bed watching a movie. Actually watching Game 5 of the NLCS when the Cards beat the Phillies – because nothing makes an eight year old boy feel better quicker than baseball.

It’s scientific.

Sloan and I had a conversation that went something like this today.

Sloan: “Mom. Could you get me some water?”

Me: “Okay. Just wait a minute, okay?”

Sloan: “Mom, I’m super thirsty and my throat hurts. Can you get me water now?”

Me: “Just a minute, Babe. I will. Just give me a minute.”

Sloan: “Mom. I might be dying. If I don’t get water, I just might die right here.”

Me: “Sheesh. Drama much?” I get up and go to the kitchen to get him water. I come back and hand him the cup and he drinks, then looks up at me.

Sloan: “Mom. Can you get me some medicine?”

Me: *feeling his forehead* “You don’t have a fever anymore. I think you’re good.”

Sloan: “No, Mom. I’m so stuffed up I can’t breathe. Please get me some medicine.”

With a small sigh I go back to the kitchen, get the medicine and bring it to him. He hands me his empty cup.

Sloan: “Mom. Could you get me some more water?”

The Lion roars.

Me: “Not your slave, kiddo. You’re gonna have to get this drink on your own.”

Sloan: “But Mom, I’m soooooo tired. Please?”

I set the cup down and walk to another room. Just as I leave I hear Sloan mutter, “I thought Moms were supposed to always take care of their kids when they’re sick.”


A Golden Retriver would have had Mercy. A Golden Retriver would have gotten him more water and probably licked the side of his face and curled up next to him in bed.

I wouldn’t know. I’m a Lion. Apparently we just eat our young…

The rockin’ Lion photo was taken by my equally rockin’ sister-in-law, Becke‘, who is not a Lion herself. I would classify her as more of a Beaver/Otter combination. Am I right, Becke’?

So what about you? Do you know your personality type? Do you eat your young?

No substitutes

I have now officially had my first experience of what it’s like to home school when sick.

It ain’t pretty.

While I have spent the morning coughing up my left lung (that’s barely an exaggeration) and blowing my nose, the kids have been curled up in bed with me reading books and going through flash cards.


Since Tia thought my voice “sounded weird” Sloan read to us today instead. He did fantastic. Except he kept reading the characters voice with a bizarre British accent, which cracked me up.

A more seasoned home schooler would probably just take the day off, but I have a hard time doing that without feeling anxious. Plus we have friends coming to visit so I don’t plan on doing school tomorrow and I will be out of town Thursday and Friday next week.

So we did school.

Russian flash cards


School in bed is fun!

We discussed atoms and how they bond together to form molecules, which join to create materials. The kids wanted to know if my snot was a liquid or a solid. Ah the joys of learning...

Sloan’s writing assignment today was to invent something and convince us to buy it so he wrote a commercial advertising his newest invention, the Robotic Room Cleaner 2000, which will make sure you never have dirty socks or underwear under your bed again, will eat your eggs for you and will watch TV for you when you’re grounded.


So I couldn’t call in a substitute today and it may not have been our most productive day of school ever, but I think we all learned a little something new. I’m going to chalk it up as a win.

What are you doing today?

Penn State: The Shame of it All

Post edit: There seems to be some confusion by some to my statement that I won’t allow my children to be alone with anyone outside of family members or friends who have earned the highest level of trust.  The operative word in that statement is alone. My kids will, and do, go to homes to play with people that I don’t know well.  But there is still a level of trust that I’ve developed even with those families and I know that my kids are in a group and are safe.  There are also a number of wise, godly men that have no relation to us that have earned such a level of respect with me that I want and desire them to have an influence on my boy’s lives.  But even those men would agree that taking my kid on a weekend trip alone would be unwise and outright foolish.  When my boys are teenagers, a little more freedom will be given to them to meet with godly men who have earned my trust.  But, in my mind, no matter how trust worthy a man (and yes, I have singled out men in this case because I am specifically talking about male leadership and its effect on my boys) there is never any reason for my boys to be meeting with him in private some place.  Not only does it open the door to speculation, but it leaves them vulnerable.  I won’t do that to them.  I don’t distrust men.  In fact, most people I meet earn my immediate respect and trust after just a few minutes.  That doesn’t change the fact, however, that I don’t want my boys alone with them.

Did I explain that more clearly?  Carry on…

I read the Grand Jury report against Jerry Sandusky the other day.  I wish I hadn’t.  I’m not linking to it here on purpose, but if you want to read it for yourself it’s a short Google search away.  But I’ll warn you that it is both graphic and disturbing.  So disturbing, in fact, that I was sick to my stomach for most of the day after reading it.

I am not a big college football follower so to be really honest, I had no idea that Joe Paterno was a college football coach.  I knew his name by the mere fact that I live with Lee Stuart who is pretty much an expert on all things sport.  I just figured Paterno was some famous Pro-team coach.  That’s how deep my level of college football expertise runs.

Today, however, I know more about Mr. Paterno and the things that I know, I do not like.  Great football coach?  I guess.  But he’s also a man that put football before a child.  He put a game and a program before a little boy.  He and several others chose silence and somehow they were able to sleep at night.

I don’t have a lot of repect for Joe Paterno.

The devastating details of abuse at Penn State go beyond football obsession.  It is more than just money and prestige that kept numerous people from doing the right thing and going to authorities and making sure Sandusky never had access to small children again.  The problem is deeper than that.

Lack of love.

The root of the issue is a selfishness so dark and wicked and ugly that it allows a man to remain silent after witnessing an act so heinous.  Love of a game?  Nah.  Love of life?  Nope.  Love of self?  I do believe so.  The very idea that Sandusky was caught more than once makes me so deeply angry I find it hard to see straight.  What stops someone from going to the authorities after seeing such evil?  What resides in our hearts that allows us to choose right over such wrong?

Where was the respect for human life?  Where was the simple act of putting the interests of someone else – a child, no less – above your own?  It’s baffling to me and yet somehow I know that I possess the same ability to cover up wrong to protect…me.  Perhaps not to this horrific of a degree, but that type of self preservation resides in all of us.  And I hate it.  With every fiber of my being, I hate it.

Reading the report only confirmed to me the thing which I had already determined in my heart the second I found out I would birth a boy.  My sons will never, under any circumstances, be alone with another man other than their father or close family members in whom I have placed my fullest trust.  No youth worker, no teacher, no pastor or leader – no one at all will do anything alone with my boys.

I’ve long since held this position, but reading the report confirms it and then some.  Jerry Sandusky gave every appearance of being trustworthy and good.  Heck, he seemed downright admirable.  Look at all the work he did for underprivilieged and at risk kids!

Yes, look at all the work he did for underprivileged and at risk kids.

There are kids who will never be the same because of Jerry Sandusky and the network of men who silently supported his sick addiction.  How can we sit silently through this madness? At what point does our silence add to the problem?

How did those boys feel, knowing someone saw but nobody came?  Silence can be deafening, you know.

I can understand why those young boys were allowed to spend time with Jerry Sandusky.  Most of them were in need of a male figure and why not let your child spend the night in the home of a seemingly upright man with a heart of gold?  I don’t really blame the parents, though I wonder why they missed the signs.  One mother tried.  She noticed, she knew and she reacted but to what end?

Where was the justice?!

For my part, I won’t ever leave my child in the care of a man alone.  My children won’t sleepover at anyone’s house unless I know the people extremely well, I know what goes on in that household and I have the topmost amount of respect for the people in whose care I’m placing my child.

The risks simply don’t outweigh the benefits.

My sons won’t go to lunch alone with another man.  They won’t participate in Bible studies where they are alone or secluded with another man.  A public place?  A group?  Yes, provided I know and trust the person they’re with.  But alone?  Never.  It just won’t happen.  You see, these boys?  They’re mine.  And I’ll protect them at all costs.

So here I remain, a woman who knows little about college football but too much about a “legendary coach.”  I pity Joe Paterno, but I do not feel sorry for him.  My heart breaks instead for the young men who were violated by his silence.  Young men who were shown as boys no more than a blind eye and a blank stare.

What are your thoughts?  What rules and guidelines do you have for your children regarding who they spend their time with and how they protect themselves from predators?

Image Credit


This morning I stepped outside and smelled spring.  She is fighting back at Old Man Winter and this morning I do believe she won.  It smells fresh, new and warm.  According to Tia, “It smells like Florida.”

The Plague that settled upon our house finally caught up to me.  I thought that I just might escape it, but alas, it wasn’t to be.  It appears that some unknown force has deposited two ton sandbags in my sinuses, has jackhammered behind my eyes and has run a cheese grater down my throat.  I do believe that someone then lit a match and tossed it up my nostril, laughing maniacally as everything from my neck up began to burn.

How’s that for imagery?

I’ve been taking so many vitamins that I practically glow in the dark so I was quite certain I would laugh in the face of this crud.  Instead it is laughing at me and my flaming sinuses.

Nyquil gives me strange dreams.  Two night ago I spent half the night trying to outrun a very cunning snake.  I climbed trees and hid under beds but everywhere I turned the snake was there, licking his lips in anticipation.  I finally woke up and had to convince myself that I wasn’t actually being chased by a 50 foot python.

I then fell back to sleep and dreamt that the President of the United States was the target of an assassination plot and I was the one tasked with thwarting this plot.  Greg Kinnear was the President and I was bound and determined to save him.


Last night’s dreams again involved critters chasing me as well as preparations to welcome a new child into our family.  This was all in the same dream.  It was as if I would switch from one scene to another and neither related to the other.  I woke up very confused. 

And no, I’m not pregnant.  I’m just sick.  And a little drugged up.

I found a Russian App for the iPad and the kids are playing it right now.  It does my heart good to know that they are enjoying the language that is so near and dear to my heart.  They are by no means fluent and I don’t expect them to be, but I do hope that someday they will share my love for all things Russian/Ukrainian and that can be something that we share as a family.

My house exploded this morning.  Yesterday it was clean and today it’s…not.  I’m not sure how that happens but it seems to happen multiple times a day.  I clean up, the house throws up and so on and so forth.  I don’t know how we’re ever going to sell this house.

On Tuesdays, the kids and I take a Russian theater class.  The teacher is hilarious and takes her craft seriously.  Yesterday she asked us to pretend we were holding a flower and wanted us to breathe in slowly through our noses then exhale through our mouths.  We were to imagine the smell of the flower.

Sloan misunderstood her directions and after a couple of breaths leaned over to me and stage whispered, “Are we pretending to smoke?!  ‘Cause that’s bad for you.” 

Speaking of images, like everyone else I am horrified by the scenes coming from Japan.  The damage is spectacular and horrifying and my heart goes out to the thousnads of people who have been so devastatingly affected.  For a great way to help out Japan, go to my friend Nicole’s blog.

Want to see some truly beautiful images?  Visit my sister-in-law, Becke’s blog and look at the pictures she took on her photo walk.  She’s just a tiny bit talented with a camera…

This is the part of the post where I sign off.  I have to hop in my smokin’ hot minivan and play mom for the rest of the day.

Peace out.

I’m a dork…

He’s made it abundantly clear

He really,








his Tamiflu.


Thank God he only has one dose left, although I will miss laughing at him as he gags dramatically…

I Said “A Boom Chicka Boom…”

This post has nothing to do with that title – I have just really wanted to title a post that for a long time now…

Actually, this post really has to do with nothing at all.  You’re ripe with excitement to read further aren’t you? 

Maybe I should do an entire post of one liners.

So there was this blogger who walked into a bar…


We’re T – four days and counting until the big trip.  I’ve had some freak out moments in the last few days, the biggest being when I realized that we might have to cut Hallstatt out of the itinerary.  My Hallstatt.  My preciousssssss

I fretted and fraught (fraught?) and worried and moped.  But it was a reality that we had planned way more than we could probably feasibly accomplish in our short time over there.  And I really didn’t want to cut out Tuscany.  Something had to go.  Until…wait a minute.  Maybe not.

What it boiled down to is this: We need to be flexible.  We I need to be willing to cut out Hallstatt if it becomes apparent that there is just no way we’re going to make it all the way there and still have time to book it down to Tuscany.  And so I still have hope, my friends.  You see, the goal is to try and stay off of the AutoBahn (and Autostrada) as much as possible.  We want to explore and get the flavor of the land.  We want to round a curve and be looking down at a village nestled in the mountains.  This means that it will take longer to travel.  But it also means we’re going to have an adventure.

And if we miss Hallstatt, we’ll just have to go back, right?  Deal!

Moving on…

See?  More one liners.  There is always room for one liners.

Too bad these aren’t the funny kind of one liners.

They’re kind of boring actually…

Ah well.

Sloan woke up with a low grade fever tonight.  I gave him some Tylenol and piled him back in bed where I hope he’ll wake up fever free for school tomorrow…because I’m that mom.  If you’re not dying, you’re going, kiddo. 

We’ll see. 

We will also be buying Emergen-C in bulk tomorrow.  And Zinc.  And Echinacea.  I will not come down with a fever on my dream vacation.  Oh, and to our parents who are splitting kid duty for the ten days while we are away: I’m so, so sorry.  Here’s to hoping whatever Sloan has doesn’t spread.  Or maybe he doesn’t have anything.  Here’s to hoping that.

Speaking of Sloan – he and I had a duke it out, we-might-not-make-it homework session tonight.  I won.  Barely.  We’re having this minor issue with child #1 in that every.single.time we bring him to the table to do homework, he brings along a massive chip on his shoulder.  He is heaping with sass these days and it’s never more apparent than when he is under educational duress.  It is especially evident when it comes time to do russian homework. Ay-yay-yay.

When it was all said and done and that which could have been completed in twenty minutes was finally finished after an hour of sweat and tears (no blood, thankfully) I felt defeated and dejected.  Now that I know he is running a low grade fever I feel a little better, but the truth is – homework is often painful.

But, just before bed, Sloan grabbed my hand and led me back to our bedroom and sat me down on the bed.  “We need to have a little talk,” he said.

“I had a bad attitude tonight and I was just angry and upset and sometimes russian is really hard and I feel like I can’t do it.  But I didn’t act right.  I wasn’t ‘quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry’ and I’m sorry.  Will you forgive me?”

He did that on his own.  Without any prompting.

My heart is still a little gooey.  Of course I was quick to offer my forgiveness and apologize for my lack of patience.  Amends were made and we agreed to work as a team to make homework more fun.  It is moments like those that I truly, truly love being a parent.  Sure it’s cool when they hit a home run or draw you a picture, but when they exhibit a heart attitude that you have worked so hard to help shape and mold?  That is when parenting is most rewarding.  Just when I felt like I was the worst mom ever and totally incapable of successfully parenting that boy, he reminded me that his sweet little heart is full of gold nuggets just waiting to be dug up and harvested.

Do you harvest gold?  Did I just mix metaphors?

So yes…parenting is wicked hard.  But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I wouldn’t even trade it for Hallstatt, Austria.

I Said “A booma ticka rocka ticka rocka ticka boom!”

The End.

Post edit: Sloan woke up fever free this morning and he happily skipped to school (well, happily skipped onto the school bus anyway).  Whoop!

Nobody said we were smart

Tomorrow is a big day.  A day when we will begin to see some of the mysteries unravel.  We’ll find out if Juliet is still alive, if Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Jin and Hurley are back where they began, if time got rebooted, if Sayyid lives, and “what lies in the shadow of the statue?”

Oh – and our daughter turns four.  Could the day be more exciting?!

In preparation for the final season of LOST, Lee and I have been staying up, ahem, rather late this last week rewatching all of last season.  And last night, even though we knew that the boys would probably wake up in the middle of the night due to colds, we decided to watch two episodes because we had four episodes left to watch and we, my friends, know what’s important in life.

And sure enough, not two  hours after I went to sleep, Landon was crying/hacking in his bed.  It was 1:01 am.  So I dragged myself up, gave him medicine, cuddled and rocked him and stumbled back to bed. 

At 2:02 he was crying again, so I brought him to bed with me in the hopes that we could both get a little sleep.  At 2:22 he was sitting up in our bed, his chubby face inches from mine whispering, “Hi Mommy.  I yub you, Mommy?  Yere’s (where’s) Woan Tia (Sloan and Tia) Mommy?”  And despite the fact that I needed a crowbar to pull my fatigued eyelids apart, I had to smile at his cherubic little face grinning at me in the dark.

So I dragged myself back out of bed and took him back to his room.  We rocked a bit more, then I laid him down and got back in bed at 3:03.  At 3:23 I stumbled back to his room to give him his doggy book, which had fallen out of his bed and he was insisting be returned to him.

At 4:04 (I swear I’m not making these times up – it was weird) I looked at the clock for the last time as Landon moaned and whimpered from his bed.  The next thing I knew, it was 6:26 and Sloan was standing over the bed.

The timing of all the wake ups was a little creepy and served as evidence that when you spend too much time lost in the mysteries of LOST, strange and crazy things start happening.  Not to mention the fact that you dream about polar bears, time travel and smoke monsters.

If we were smart, we’d forgo the LOST viewing this evening and go to bed early.  But that’s not going to happen.  We’ve made it this far so we’re committed now.  And so I shall drink my coffee, yawn so wide I suck the oxygen out of the room and power forward.  Because life is all about priorities, people!

I’m off now to pack the make up under my saggy eyes…

There seems to be no escaping…

H1N1 is spreading around here like wildfire.  Every day I hear of new cases, more schools closing and so on and so forth.

We decided not to vaccinate our kids against H1N1.  We decided this for a couple of reasons.  First of all, the vaccination is too new.  I don’t trust it – plain and simple.  And I cannot get a concenses from doctors as to whether or not it’s a good idea.  Some say definately get it, others say definately don’t.  So in my mind, the risks outweigh the benefits.

Second, I’m not even sure that I would be able to get it.  Sloan’s school has to keep pushing back the date on the vaccine because they haven’t received their supplies yet and I would only be able to vaccinate him.  I don’t even know that I could get it for the other two – if I wanted it, that is.

Third, I feel like it’s inevitable that we’re going to get the swine flu.  I’m taking every precaution I can think of short of holing ourselves up and barring the door.  The kids are getting double the amount of vitamin C, I’m faithfully administering their JuicePlus vitamins, I’m serving them more green vegetables and raw fruits, we’re washing hands, I’m *limiting the amount of dairy they receive, I’m washing sheets more frequently in hot water and so on and so forth.  I’m not really sure what else I could be doing.

Despite all of that, however, I feel like this H1N1 thing is a ticking time bomb and I would almost rather we just get it and move on.  I know that sounds terrible and I’m not hoping my kids get sick, but if they’re going to get it, I’d rather it happen sooner rather than later so we can move on our merry way.

I heard on the radio this morning there are 1300 confirmed cases of the swine flu in the St. Louis area, which is more flu than doctors usually report in an entire season.  It really is spreading like the plague.  Even my friend Nicole has been affected and she takes similar precautions to me.

So we’ll see what happens.  I heard that this week there were 13 confirmed cases at Sloan’s school and five kindergartners were home sick today (I don’t know if they were any of the confirmed cases or not) so we’ll just take it one day at a time.  I did get the kids a seasonl flu shot this year for the first time since 2006 in the hopes that if they do come down with the swine flu it will be a milder case.  Who knows?  It’s just crazy.

* There are studies that say that dairy products increase the amount of muscus your body produces, so by cutting back on dairy, I’m hoping to help their bodies eliminate as much unneeded mucus as possible.  I can’t cut it out all together, as my kids love their milk.  But I’m pretty much only giving it to them in the morning at this point, rather than throughout the day.

Anyway, moving on…

Today was Sloan’s first field trip to the pumpkin patch and oh my goodness he was excited.  He’s talked about it all week.  Yesterday when it rained all day long, Mother Nature and I had a long talk about how she better not ruin my boy’s first time to go somewhere with his class, and she obliged somewhat – if you count freezing cold and overcast obliging.  But alas, at least there wasn’t any rain.

I didn’t think I would get to go because I didn’t have anyone to watch Tia and Landon, but at the last minute my friend Jessica offered to keep them and I was able to surprise Sloan and show up.  I’m so glad I went!  It was fun to see him in that environment.  Thanks again Jessica!

And I think he was glad I was there.  When no one was looking he gave me a big hug.  Of course, when he was eating lunch with one of his friends, he said I was weird.  Ha!

I’ll take it.

So that was a fun highlight of the morning.  And now I’m off to get the house in order because Lee and I are going on a date tonight.  A date!  What is a date?!

I’m not sure what we’re going to do.  We wanted to see our friend Joe and his band play downtown, but they aren’t going to start playing until 10:30 or 11:00.  Couple that with the fact that our babysitter doesn’t drive, which means I’ll have to drive her home and the knowledge that we have three little alarm clocks that will drag us out of bed at the crack of dawn tomorrow. 

Needless to say, we’re not going to do that to ourselves.  Getting old bites.

We may go see a movie instead, which sounds like an old person thing to do, but I was thinking about it today and I’m pretty sure it’s been about two and a half years since Lee and I went to the movie theater together.

I think we’re due for a movie night…

Happy weekend!

The one with all the vomit – and other funny stuff…

It is amazing to me how two children from the same two parents can be so very different. 

Sloan has a penchant for melodrama.  He gets that from me.  I know you’re shocked.  I’ll give you a minute to let that bit of information sink in before we move on…

 Better?  Yes, as a child I tended to be slightly over dramatic about a few everything.  I like to think of myself as a passionate person.  And Sloan is my passionate child.  Thus the reason he and I butt heads constantly.  I’m positive my parents prayed fervantly that I ended up with a child just like me.

Tia, on the other hand, is relatively even-keeled.  Unless she loses a race or gets beat in a game, then the gloves come off and she releases with a mighty fury.  She only slightly competitive – just slightly like her daddy.

But when it comes to things like falling down, getting sick, etc… She’s our tough one.

When Sloan throws up, the world will know.  There is great wailing and gnashing of teeth.  There is a fair amount of bemoaning (Why did I have to get sick?) and he makes it plenty obvious that he’s not happy.  And I can appreciate that – I really can.

So when Tia started throwing up last night, I braced myself for the hysterics.  But they never came.  In fact, we didn’t even know she had a stomach ache.  (This is the same child who, the last time she got the stomach flu, threw up in her bed and went back to sleep in it – we never knew she’d gotten sick!)  And as I held her over the sink and washed her mouth off, our conversation went like this:

Me: Are you feeling better now?
Tia: Yes. (heaves and spews)
Me: Does your tummy still hurt?
Tia: No (heaves and spews)
Me: Do you want a little drink?
Tia: No – I want to go night-night. (heaves and spews)

Sweet little girl threw up on and off all night last night, and each time she leaned her head over her bowl, took care of business, then rolled over and went back to sleep with hardly a word.

Yes – they are different.  Both sweet and spicey in their own little ways.


In other, slightly less disgusting news, Sloan and I had an interesting discussion yesterday.  I won’t recount the whole thing because it’s not entirely appropriate for this public platform, but let’s just say it involved him giggling over the word penis.

Boys!  Honestly, they don’t have to be taught do they?

And finally, this morning I took my brood (yes, even the sicko) to the Social Security office where I had to get all of our cards replaced due to them being stolen last year.  That’s fuuuuun.

As we left, we walked past a man taking a smoke break.  And my terribly un-shy 6-year-old piped up, “Why do you have a smoker?  Don’t you know that’s bad for you? It makes your lungs black.”

Out of the mouth’s of babes…