A Slimy Day

It's been one of those days where the entire house is awash in varied forms of snot, vomit, and drool. Yermmy.

I heard Israel wake up around 3:15 this morning, and when he kept fussing and coughing a little, I trudged across the hall to fill his bottle with milk. When I returned, I realized that he had peed through his diaper and onto his sheet. Stink. I wrestled him out of the two layers of clothes I had put him in to keep him warm, into a fresh 2 layers, and changed the sheet, as he lay drowsily drinking his milk.

Back to bed I zipped, where I lay awake, listening to him cough. And cough. And fuss some more. I already had the vaporizer running in their room, but after he kept coughing spasmodically, I thought maybe I should go add more salt. Back across the hall. It is now about 3:30. Israel is sitting up in his crib quietly. I peer blindly through the crib bars at him, and - is that? Oh no. Can it be - ? Crud. He is covered from head to toe in slimy milk curd vomit, which is also on his fresh sheet and his crib bumper.

I distastefully peel the nasty nasty nasty off of my child, who is suddenly wide awake and chipper with a Capital C. ChipPER. He squeals with delight and bounces around in his crib on his knees, crowing with joy. He vomits another time or two, this time on the bare mattress pad, just for the sheer fun of it. This is just painful. Gabe stirs over in his bed where he had previously been sleeping peacefully, and starts to moan and groan his woes. Oh. Joy.

Now it is 4:25 AM. Israel is playing cheerfully on the living room floor. Way more cheerfully than he plays during normal business hours. Gabriel is wadded up in his dinosaur blanket on the couch, refusing with screams of great sleepy disoriented distress to go lay in Mom and Dad's bed, because he is "scared". Tim is slouched painfully on the couch beside him. We are all having a GRAND time. This is one of those "worse" times, in the "for better or worse"'s.

Israel retires again for the night around 5. Tim goes down to sleep in the basement, and I tuck Gabe into bed with me. Where he lies quietly with eyes wide open, unable to sleep, tossing, turning, and digging his feet into my ribs. Every once in a while he starts to bellow about going back to his bed in Israel's room, which I do not want him to do, because let me tell you just how much I don't want Israel to wake up again. I distract him with stories, that trail off into silence mid-sentence, as I keep falling asleep. Gabe drifts off around 6:15 or so, and I gratefully follow suit.

Today Gabe extended the vomit fest. At least both times it was on hardwood or linoleum.
Both have been coughing a dry hacking cough all day. Israel is a virtual faucet of snot and drool.

Mmmmmmm.

The sweet, sweet days of childhood....

Grin.

Mommying

I've discovered a new, thankless, "mom task". It's called "sorting clothes". Ble-double-ech.

This wasn't such a huge task with one little munchkin, but with the two of them, with one going out of summer 2T-3T into winter 3T, and the other going from summer 9-18 month clothes into winter 18-2T, it makes for a lot of sorting. Add in various laundry baskets of clothes that had shown up from time to time ranging from Maternity to 5T, and you have quite a fun task on your hands. Me hatey.
This was my not-so-helpful-boys hogging up the baby drawer. This was in between the tasks of "hurling ourself headlong from c'os (clothes) box to c'os box" (Gabriel), and the little person (Israel) rapidly and repeatedly emptying any container of clothes that happened to be in front of his sweet little self. Sigh.

So I keep forgetting to write about Baby Israel. Who has been taking steps. (13 months) And saying words. "Nana" (Mama), "Dada", "C'o" (Chloe), "ou-sih" (outside). He LOVES light switches. And anything digital. And cordless phones. He loves to talk about lights. "Dah!" He loves to play with Big Brother.
This is Baby Israel's most favoritest view - Life From the Mommy Perch.
This is Mommy and Israel doing something blurry and important in front of the microwave.
This is Mommy and Israel reading the cookbook together and trying to figure out how long to cook those potatoes in the microwave.
"There's that Daddy who doesn't haul me around like this."

Last night after Mommy plowed her way through clothes, she turned her attentions to giving Baby Israel a haircut, proving herself astonishingly inept. Wow, am I a bad barber. Slanted bangs and all. The child was just not a big fan of Mommy the Scissors Snippy Snippy My Neck Is Itchy and I'm Going to Bellow For All I'm Worth.
Oh my. And this is why he is holding TIGHTLY to his Holy Bible. Or perhaps it just gives him better leverage to get to that handy little pressy clicky heater button...

Crushed Beetle Juice

So I have had a splinter in my foot for several months now, that has recently really started hurting. That's right, I said "several months". The girl at the doctor's office today looked at me like I was a complete dork when I told her that. She also looked at me like I was a complete dork when I politely refused a preliminary X-ray unless absolutely needed due to the fact that our current insurance has a deductible of like, 4 skillion dollars, and then huffed out of the room with a roll of the eyes. Well, then.

The doctor came in, scratched away at my foot for a bit, then put a drop of crushed beetle juice on it to flush the splinter out in a blister. She also added hair of gnat, 4 drops of cow urine, and a dash of powdered lice, clapped her hands three times, and raced around my chair in an Indian head-dress. A very interesting experience in all. (Kidding about all but the Juice of Beetle.)

I'm supposed to go back in 2 weeks for her to remove the dad-gum thing. How weird is this treatment? I'm very intrigued.

While I was gone, Gabriel managed to dump all of the flour into the sugar, and mix it with a large amount of Crisco. As of two minutes ago, he dumped the entire bag of Rice Chex on the floor so as to load it by hand into his dump truck, and is licking the remains off the carpet.

Well, then.

This is Gimpy, over and out.

My Yon Right Goodly Husband

So let me tell you about my yon right goodly husband.

The other night, after overwhelmed tears, he hustled the sweetie boys out to the living room to "leave mom alone" and let her do some well-needed blogging..

Then yesterday while I was working, he cleaned the house, so that I didn't feel so oppressed with all the work I needed to do when I got home and had the blessing of a clean kitchen. I sure do love a clean kitchen.

And today, after lunch while Israel was snoozing, he let me scuttle like a big scuttley bug in my fuzzy sweatpants and purple sweatshirt to my cozy bed where I curled up with my library book, my 2 Lindt chocolates (thanks Lynette), and my glass of ice tea. Where I laid in the sunshine, watching the trees blow their red autumn leaves outside my window, and where I drifted into peaceful, uninterrupted, glorious midday slumber, as previously longed for, and from whence I feel blissfully refreshed.

Happy sigh.

He's a yon right good goodly husband.

photo courtesy of Lynette Polinder

Overheard

Heard in our house tonight:

Gabe: "What's that?"

Tim: "That's a deer that poops out candies. Now come on, let's go, and leave Mom alone."

That's a deer that poops out candies. Oh yes, my friends, you heard right.

While I was fixing lunch today, Gabe came out to the kitchen pantless and chirped, "I pooped in the potty!" Which, hallelujah, he had. This is a day for monumental events. #1 in the potty - why not? #2 in the potty? I don't think so. This indeed deserved a prize, as he had collected plenty enough "pee stickers" for a prize as well. (Life with children apparently breaks down into odder moments of celebration than you might imagine.)

Today I was running important errands like dropping the mortgage check off at the bank, getting Gabe's 3 year old pictures taken, and buying meaningless drivel at Claire's in the mall, where Gabe laid eyes on a toy reindeer that he decided he would like for his "potty present". On the way home I realized that it was a "special" reindeer that has "candy movements".

Classy. Yet fitting.

Day Dreams

Tonight is one of those nights when I wish I could just be ALONE.

These days, my daydreams are pretty simple. Time by myself, in a quiet house, laying in the sun, watching the wind blow the trees outside my window, and drooling chocolate on my book as I drift off into glorious, peaceful, uninterrupted midday slumber. This friends, is my "priceless. And for everything else, there's Mastercard" of late.

Sigh.

Of course I love my boys to pieces. That's a given. Of course I would endure a million years without breaks in order to have them around. It's just that no one can deny the luxury of that mythical dream called a "break". 'Cause that's all it feels like of late. A mythical dream.

Now, I am not asking for sympathy here. I'm just enjoying a good whine. If I really really wanted to, I suppose I could rouse up the motivation to go in determined search of a babysitter. Honestly? Last time we had a babysitter? Mmmmm. Not real sure. Oh yes. Our anniversary in June. My babysitter issues involve the following:

1. Don't know anyone in that tender, would-love-babysitting-money age range that can actually drive, or that isn't hugely busy with social life.
2. Don't really like to swap babysitting, because I hate babysitting.
3. Feel guilty if I don't pay someone my own age who babysits a "real" wage. Which I don't really feel like I can hardly afford.

Sigh. This, my friends, is yet another reason to live close to family that you can take full, unfettered advantage of. Heh heh. Not that I would know anything about that pipe dream.

So I suppose I will just have to live vicariously through my daydreams of an house that is empty for a few hours because Tim took both boys to Walmart to do my shopping and browse in the toy section for a few hours....or to the park in a random 75 degree day-in-late-November-that-could-happen-you-never-know....or nights out on the town where I get to eat a leisurely supper out at a real restaurant with my husband, watch a movie, and saunter my way slowly home.

Instead, I shall type furiously on my computer, oh, wait - peck one fingered on my computer while holding a young child DETERMINED to conquer the keyboard whilst the elder one wails in the distance - Mommymommymommymommymommy. His daddy may deal with that one tonight. I'm sipping hot chocolate and watching Grey's Anatomy Season 3. By the whirring heater. In my comfy PJ's. And sleeping in until 11:30 and dressing slowly and driving to Denny's for a breakfast and then coming back to read a little, do no housework whatsoever, cook no meals, and have a nice long afternoon nap. At which point I will be thrilled to welcome my babies back with open arms and lots of hugs and kisses and tummy gittin's.

Or I just won't do any of of the former, say I did, and just go straight to the latter.

Off to git some tummies...

Three

I stretch out
per request
Weary day mostly behind me
Shoes still on
head on pillow
The Caped Avenger hurls himself through the air
Rushing to fill the empty space on top of my chest
Legs gripping my ribcage
Arms fiercely clutching my neck
blanket cape swirled in on top of us
satin cheek pressed firmly to my face
squeezing me in as close as he can
snuffling into my neck
In these days where one cannot get quite enough of Mommy
right now his all his greedy hug
breath whooshing past my eardrum
from all the vigorous mommy attacking
I grin into the darkness
pat the blanketed back
Child of mine struggling to find a comfy place to lay his head on mommy’s bony collarbone
Where is a well padded chest when I need one?
Cuddly minutes pass
Squirming quiets
Child lists to the side
Breathing relaxed
Eyes blink. pause. blink.
slow blink.
yawn.
blond eyelashes resting on downy cheek
warm hand touching mine uncurls
sleep.
sweet sleep.
I ease out from beneath the gentle weight of child limbs
baby arm falling gently to the side
and gaze at his slumbering
press an involuntary kiss to soft cheek
relaxed face, gentle breath
inhaling his innocence...
Three.