Sometimes I use this blog as a way to tell funny stories, or as a way to reflect, or as my coping mechanism for the endless crazy times that define my 30's. Other times, like now, I use it as a sort of electronic baby book for the boys. They aren't babies anymore but I love being able to capture some of these stories so that they can read them later....and not in my horrible handwriting!
It's amazing to see the boys' relationship with God develop year by year. Leo is beside himself at church every Sunday waiting to sing the Alleluhia...but make no mistake, he's still 2 years old. Almost immediately after the Alleluhia he begs to go home for the next 30 minutes!! He might take about a 3 minute break when he gets to take his $1 up to the basket and then immediately back to begging to go home. Justin is learning to go beyond saying prayers and maybe, just maybe, starting to understand actually talking and praying to God.
This past weekend Justin and I had a great conversation about God. I am pretty sure the discussion began as a delay tactic for going to bed, but I will take what I can get. It was very interesting to see a 4 year old try to grasp the concept of talking to God. Justin had been misbehaving all evening so in true Catholic fashion I started trying to teach him about praying and confession. I told him that in his prayers tonight he might want to tell God that he is sorry for being sassy and for hitting Leo.
Enter an endless amount of questions:
Can I talk to God anytime I want? (yes)
Anytime? (yes)
When I wish upon a star is that talking to God? (sure)
Could I say "I love you God?" (of course, He loves to hear that)
Could I say "Abracadabra?" (sure, you can say whatever you want to God)
Could I say "1, 60, 60, 111, 60?" (well, that's not a real number but you can say anything to God)
Where is God? (He is everywhere and when we talk to Him, He is in our hearts)
Like Balentine's Day? (no, this heart is in our body)
Where is our heart? (it's in our body. I let him lay on my chest and hear my heart beat)
What does it do? (it keeps us alive by pumping blood through our body)
Is God in our blood? (yes, God is everywhere)
Did you know that Dracula likes blood? (yes)
Is God in Dracula? (no, Dracula isn't real. He is pretend)
What about Batman? Is God in Batman? (no, Batman isn't real either)
Yes he is! When he is Batman he isn't real because that is a costume, but when he isn't his costume then he is real like me. (Ok, then God is in Batman when he is real).
How does our heart keep us alive? (It just keeps us going like how batteries keep toys going)
What about when it runs out? (the heart doesn't run out like batteries do...I SO did not want to go down that road too! This was heavy enough)
Like Robots? Do Robots have God? (no they aren't real)
Only good guys have hearts, right? (kind of)
Not Joker. He is a bad guy. But all of the good guys are real people so they have hearts. (ok)
So I can talk to God anytime? (yes)
What if I am talking to someone else and He can't hear me? (He can always hear you no matter who you are talking to)
Will he be mad at me if I am talking to someone else? (no, but He wants you to talk nice to everyone).
Can He talk to me? (kind of. He is in your brain and in your heart talking to you.)
Like numbers are in my brain? (kind of)
ok mom. Good night.
and just like that, he was done with our conversation. It was like he had learned all he needed to learn that night about talking to God. Just warmed my heart....and made up for some of the sassy behaviors :)
the boys
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Move on, ICM. Move on.
I'm broke as a joke. Not really sure what that means exactly, but to me it simply means I ain't got no cash....until Jeremy gets home today :)
It's not like I can complain about being broke. For anyone that is my friend on Facebook you have recently been witness to my martini extravaganza in DC last weekend. AND I got my hair done for a still undisclosed amount. So I'm not complaining here, I am just simply stating the fact that I am flat broke.
How did I spend my last $5 you might ask? Or you might not be asking because I'm fairly confident that no one was sitting around thinking up that question on their own, but I digress as I so often do.
I spent my last $5 in cash for the week on the freaking Ice Cream Man. Well technically I spent $4 on ice cream and gave him a $1 tip. That's right. I am such a giver. Yup, that's me. Always thinking of others. Puttin' others first. That's what everyone always says about me. That Gwen is just sooooo selfless.
Anyway, back to me and my story...I am guessing my kids have never experienced the Ice Cream Truck. I don't recall ever having it stop by our house and I assume they have never encountered it at their grandparents house or anywhere else because they were clueless. And no one forgets the Ice Cream Truck after their first experience. So this was a new thing for them.
I could here its bell ringing in the neighborhood while we were outside watering the flowers. As it got closer I decided to make a big deal out of it. Why? I do not know. It was a moment of weakness. I start getting the boys all pumped up. "HERE IT COMES, BOYS!! QUICK, COME SEE IT." I was like a freaking lunatic in the front yard. And they don't even understand what is going on. They are running around in circles in the front yard in excitement, yet have no idea what is actually going on. First of all, my boys don't eat ice cream (due to Justin's history of allergies) so the announcement of the Ice Cream TRUCK'S arrival.... as in a whole truck full of ice cream...didn't have quite the same impact as it might on some other young children. If I had said a Popsicle Truck was coming it might have been a different reaction, but that's ridiculous. No one calls it that.
So here I am getting everyone all riled up in the front yard as the ugly white van turns the corner ringing the ol' bell. Then I realize that I only have $5 to my name. I'm pretty sure he won't accept Visa. I have no idea how much treats from the truck cost today. I'm sure they aren't cheap. I'm thinking that we might end up all sharing one $4 bomb pop. Lick and pass. Lick and pass. Lick and pass. Sounds like good times.
And I realize my money is in the house, in the garage, in my car. So I start frantically waving at the Ice Cream Man (from here on out known as ICM) indicating that oh yeah, baby, we want ice cream but I have to run inside to get the money. I'm pretty sure he is familiar with the signal of a short wave and a point towards the house as "I am going to get money, I'll be right back" and not as a signal that "Hey scary ICM, we are going to lock ourselves in the house so you don't kidnap my kids."
We all know about the reputation of ICM's, whether deserved or undeserved. Not the safest bunch of folks. What a lovely reputation they have. I mean what person wants to go home and announce to their dear mother "MOM, I got a new job. I am going to be an Ice Cream Man." That poor mother. She is telling all of her friends that her son is in "transportation" or "sales." You know I'm right about this.
But I digress (again). So for good measure I wave at the ICM a few more times indicating that I am going inside (with my children) to get money and will be right back. The whole time I am pumping the kids up for this uber exciting experience of buying a Popsicle from a white van. THIS IS GONNA BE GREAT!!
So we rush outside where ICM continues to ring his bell just in case any other kids in the neighborhood want to come a runnin'. Thankfully most of the prices are around $2 so each of the boys can have their own and I can eat left over Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream that the Schwann's man gave me a few months ago....I think you know that story. (what is it with me and frozen food trucks??)
After all of the hype the whole experience was relatively painless. Justin and Leo each picked out their treat, a Batman and Pink Panther Popsicle, respectively. Our total is $4 so I hand Mr. ICM the $5 and start to walk away and he asked me if that was his tip. I so, so, so badly wanted to turn around and say "Here's a tip. Don't ever try to lure my children to your truck and kidnap them" but instead I just said "Sure is. Have a good day." Then I shuffled the boys inside and made them promise me about 15 times that they would never talk to the ICM without mommy or daddy present. Probably scared the crap out of the boys and I am sure that ICM was a perfectly decent person, but one can never be too sure.
Then true to form, after all of that (which probably only lasted a total of 3 minutes) the boys each took about 4 bites out of their ice cream bar/Popsicle things and then left them on the table to melt. Yup, that's about right. I salvaged them before they were a total puddle and to date they continue to sit in our freezer in individual Ziploc bags. $4 really well spent. Big ol' pat on the back of dear ol' mom!
So you can imagine my general displeasure when, for the last 4 days, the ICM has been driving down our street, turning around at our corner, then back up it, then down again, occasionally stopping right in front for a few seconds, then around our block, then down one more time all the while ringing that damn bell in a grand attempt to draw us back out into the front yard to spend $4 and perhaps throw the ever so generous $1 tip his way. Keep trying, ICM. Keep trying.
We still have 2 half eaten Popsicles in the freezer. And Mama ain't got no money today.
It's not like I can complain about being broke. For anyone that is my friend on Facebook you have recently been witness to my martini extravaganza in DC last weekend. AND I got my hair done for a still undisclosed amount. So I'm not complaining here, I am just simply stating the fact that I am flat broke.
How did I spend my last $5 you might ask? Or you might not be asking because I'm fairly confident that no one was sitting around thinking up that question on their own, but I digress as I so often do.
I spent my last $5 in cash for the week on the freaking Ice Cream Man. Well technically I spent $4 on ice cream and gave him a $1 tip. That's right. I am such a giver. Yup, that's me. Always thinking of others. Puttin' others first. That's what everyone always says about me. That Gwen is just sooooo selfless.
Anyway, back to me and my story...I am guessing my kids have never experienced the Ice Cream Truck. I don't recall ever having it stop by our house and I assume they have never encountered it at their grandparents house or anywhere else because they were clueless. And no one forgets the Ice Cream Truck after their first experience. So this was a new thing for them.
I could here its bell ringing in the neighborhood while we were outside watering the flowers. As it got closer I decided to make a big deal out of it. Why? I do not know. It was a moment of weakness. I start getting the boys all pumped up. "HERE IT COMES, BOYS!! QUICK, COME SEE IT." I was like a freaking lunatic in the front yard. And they don't even understand what is going on. They are running around in circles in the front yard in excitement, yet have no idea what is actually going on. First of all, my boys don't eat ice cream (due to Justin's history of allergies) so the announcement of the Ice Cream TRUCK'S arrival.... as in a whole truck full of ice cream...didn't have quite the same impact as it might on some other young children. If I had said a Popsicle Truck was coming it might have been a different reaction, but that's ridiculous. No one calls it that.
So here I am getting everyone all riled up in the front yard as the ugly white van turns the corner ringing the ol' bell. Then I realize that I only have $5 to my name. I'm pretty sure he won't accept Visa. I have no idea how much treats from the truck cost today. I'm sure they aren't cheap. I'm thinking that we might end up all sharing one $4 bomb pop. Lick and pass. Lick and pass. Lick and pass. Sounds like good times.
And I realize my money is in the house, in the garage, in my car. So I start frantically waving at the Ice Cream Man (from here on out known as ICM) indicating that oh yeah, baby, we want ice cream but I have to run inside to get the money. I'm pretty sure he is familiar with the signal of a short wave and a point towards the house as "I am going to get money, I'll be right back" and not as a signal that "Hey scary ICM, we are going to lock ourselves in the house so you don't kidnap my kids."
We all know about the reputation of ICM's, whether deserved or undeserved. Not the safest bunch of folks. What a lovely reputation they have. I mean what person wants to go home and announce to their dear mother "MOM, I got a new job. I am going to be an Ice Cream Man." That poor mother. She is telling all of her friends that her son is in "transportation" or "sales." You know I'm right about this.
But I digress (again). So for good measure I wave at the ICM a few more times indicating that I am going inside (with my children) to get money and will be right back. The whole time I am pumping the kids up for this uber exciting experience of buying a Popsicle from a white van. THIS IS GONNA BE GREAT!!
So we rush outside where ICM continues to ring his bell just in case any other kids in the neighborhood want to come a runnin'. Thankfully most of the prices are around $2 so each of the boys can have their own and I can eat left over Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream that the Schwann's man gave me a few months ago....I think you know that story. (what is it with me and frozen food trucks??)
After all of the hype the whole experience was relatively painless. Justin and Leo each picked out their treat, a Batman and Pink Panther Popsicle, respectively. Our total is $4 so I hand Mr. ICM the $5 and start to walk away and he asked me if that was his tip. I so, so, so badly wanted to turn around and say "Here's a tip. Don't ever try to lure my children to your truck and kidnap them" but instead I just said "Sure is. Have a good day." Then I shuffled the boys inside and made them promise me about 15 times that they would never talk to the ICM without mommy or daddy present. Probably scared the crap out of the boys and I am sure that ICM was a perfectly decent person, but one can never be too sure.
Then true to form, after all of that (which probably only lasted a total of 3 minutes) the boys each took about 4 bites out of their ice cream bar/Popsicle things and then left them on the table to melt. Yup, that's about right. I salvaged them before they were a total puddle and to date they continue to sit in our freezer in individual Ziploc bags. $4 really well spent. Big ol' pat on the back of dear ol' mom!
So you can imagine my general displeasure when, for the last 4 days, the ICM has been driving down our street, turning around at our corner, then back up it, then down again, occasionally stopping right in front for a few seconds, then around our block, then down one more time all the while ringing that damn bell in a grand attempt to draw us back out into the front yard to spend $4 and perhaps throw the ever so generous $1 tip his way. Keep trying, ICM. Keep trying.
We still have 2 half eaten Popsicles in the freezer. And Mama ain't got no money today.
Monday, May 16, 2011
J is for Jeremy
J is for Jersey Shore and all of the other trashy TV that you watch.
E is for enormous. And I am talking about your enormous heart. Get your mind out of the gutter!
R is for "rocking out" which is what you and the boys do in the car to annoy and amuse me all at the same time
E is for eager to please because you always are
M is for the monkey paw you give me every time you get the chance
Y is for the yummy sauce you make for our salmon dinners
K is for kisses. Big smooches to you, honey!!
E is for eagle ears that can hear my mumbles anywhere in the house but yet have no idea what I am saying when I am 2 feet from you
V is for the vacuum that you use WAY more than I ever do
I is for the i-phone which is how you will read this blog
N is for needy which you are, and I'm not....so a good balance overall!
O is for all of the work that you do Outside while I am a wimp and stay inside in the air conditioning.
B is for buns because you have the cutest ones and I just wanna smack them everytime I walk by
R is for rubbing my feet which you do often
I is for the "I do's" that we said almost 5 years ago
E is for the earring that you finally removed after we had been dating for about a year
N is for the Nutcracker Ballet that we went to when we were first dating and you asked me when the actors would start talking. Still one of my favorite dates....right up until the time that you tore your ACL and had to have surgery the next week.
Love you!!!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Judge much?
I am a big fan of judging people. yup. I said it. Love to get all up in the business of others and make my ever so expert judgement on if they are making the right decision for their lives. Fortunately, I found a job that allows me to do just that. I mean we call it "assessing" in the biz, but really it's just judging. But have no fear, I also excel in this skill outside of work. I mean no harm in it. It's just something to pass my time. I can honestly say I do it with no ill intent whatsoever. Just good old fashion judging.
But I'm totally cool with people judging me. I'm not stupid. I know it happens. Everyone has an opinion about everything. For example, there are some out there in this cruel, cruel world that will judge me for having Lucky Charms for dinner tonight. Oh yes ma'am I did. I gained those 5 lbs right back after my flu. So go ahead and talk about that over coffee tomorrow morning. AND Jeremy just forced me to make cookies tonight. I didn't plan on it. Ok, so I did already have a spoonful of cookie dough, but I was NOT planning on going the extra step and actually baking cookies. Lazy? Maybe. Want to judge me for that? That's cool. I won't hate on ya. (I have no idea why I had to go ghetto at the end there...I guess you can judge that too.) While you are judging me, I'm eating warm cookies. SNAP!
You know what else? I give in to my kids all the time. Little Miss Hard Ass at work is just a push-over in my own home. Full disclosure: I might be a push over at work sometimes too. Judge much?
I let my kids come up to my bed. I know. I'm a rebel. I'm super crazy like that! I used to be one of the people that judged parents for letting their toddlers and young children sleep in their bed. I was all "that is so wrong" and "those kids will never learn to sleep by themselves" and "that's not healthy for parents or children." But, don't knock it 'till you try it right? I am somehow blessed with children that love to cuddle in my bed with me, but then also love to go to their own beds when it comes down to time to actually go to sleep. God I love those boys!! The very last words I heard on Mother's Day were from Justin as he climbed out of my bed, pausing, and telling me in his most serious voice "Mom, thank you so much for always taking care of me. I love you. And you know what, Mom? We are a family. And we have to stick together and always be kind to each other."
So do I judge the cheesy cartoon that taught him these sappy comments? I do not. I just soak it in. Every little minute of it. Don't judge me. Ok, go ahead.....
But I'm totally cool with people judging me. I'm not stupid. I know it happens. Everyone has an opinion about everything. For example, there are some out there in this cruel, cruel world that will judge me for having Lucky Charms for dinner tonight. Oh yes ma'am I did. I gained those 5 lbs right back after my flu. So go ahead and talk about that over coffee tomorrow morning. AND Jeremy just forced me to make cookies tonight. I didn't plan on it. Ok, so I did already have a spoonful of cookie dough, but I was NOT planning on going the extra step and actually baking cookies. Lazy? Maybe. Want to judge me for that? That's cool. I won't hate on ya. (I have no idea why I had to go ghetto at the end there...I guess you can judge that too.) While you are judging me, I'm eating warm cookies. SNAP!
You know what else? I give in to my kids all the time. Little Miss Hard Ass at work is just a push-over in my own home. Full disclosure: I might be a push over at work sometimes too. Judge much?
I let my kids come up to my bed. I know. I'm a rebel. I'm super crazy like that! I used to be one of the people that judged parents for letting their toddlers and young children sleep in their bed. I was all "that is so wrong" and "those kids will never learn to sleep by themselves" and "that's not healthy for parents or children." But, don't knock it 'till you try it right? I am somehow blessed with children that love to cuddle in my bed with me, but then also love to go to their own beds when it comes down to time to actually go to sleep. God I love those boys!! The very last words I heard on Mother's Day were from Justin as he climbed out of my bed, pausing, and telling me in his most serious voice "Mom, thank you so much for always taking care of me. I love you. And you know what, Mom? We are a family. And we have to stick together and always be kind to each other."
So do I judge the cheesy cartoon that taught him these sappy comments? I do not. I just soak it in. Every little minute of it. Don't judge me. Ok, go ahead.....
Monday, April 25, 2011
Not the Easter Bunny's finest moment
Spoiler alert for all people ages 10 and under: I play the role of the Easter Bunny in this story!
The flu hit our house on Easter weekend. Makes me so sad. I love Easter church masses and was really looking forward to a day with my family! But alas, it was not to be.
After 2 full days of the boys with the flu, Easter Eve started with a 9:30 pm phone call from Jeremy. He was at work and trying to convince himself that his stomach ache was from the hamburger he ate at dinner. Nevermind the fact that he had stayed up all night on Thursday with a vomiting child and then spent the entire day on Friday with 2 sick boys. Yeah sure honey. It's probably the hamburger.
Sure enough, 11:30 pm rolls around and he is doubled over in pain. Can barely stop upchucking long enough to tell me he's on his way home. He made the drive home and arrived just after midnight. Happy Easter.
Now it's 4 am. Leo wakes up having thrown up in bed again. We go through the now very familiar routine of clean up, so much so that he is telling me what to do step by step. I have no idea where he gets his bossy side!
And now it's Easter morning. My grand plan had been for Jeremy to hide all candy/eggs when he arrived home from work. Clearly that wasn't happening. As the boys made their way upstairs as they do every morning, I rolled over in bed only to discover that I, too, have a little bit of a rumble in the belly going on. Well, that's just freaking great! All possible Easter Bunny's are down for the count. But I must pull through.
I head downstairs under the guise of getting their morning juice. With each step my stomach is turning. I finally make it downstairs where I open 2 bags of candy and decide to just throw them in some piles on the living room floor. Then I grab their Easter baskets that I had made the night before, position them on the couch, grab their juices and head back upstairs.
I make the grand announcement that the Easter Bunny has arrived to which Justin replies "Oh, I bet he put out our eggs that we colored last night." Well, son of a bunny!!! I forgot the darned colored eggs!
I might be sick but I can still think on my feet (plus my sick kids were a little slow on the uptake). I told him that I should go down by myself and check. I hurried....ok, that's a lie....I made my way downstairs holding my stomach. Grabbed 6 of their eggs and put them on the living room floor with the rest of the piles. The smell sent me over the edge. This time before I went back up I grabbed the ol' puke bucket. It wasn't looking good at this point.
The boys come downstairs to see what the Easter Bunny has delivered. Nothing was hidden. Just sitting there in plain site. Not a plastic egg to be found! They could have cared less. Thank goodness for low expectations. They ran right past all of the candy and straight to their baskets. As they reveled in their gifts, I sat on the bottom step of our stairs holding tight to the puke bucket, just praying I could at least see them through this part of the morning.
Then from upstairs in the spare bedroom I hear Jeremy yelling for me. He is sicker than a dog and has a list of things he needs from me including water, toilet paper, and I'm not sure what else because instead of helping I just yelled back at him that I am sick too and I'm trying to watch the kids do their Easter morning stuff. Such a lovely wife.
Halfway through the boys going through their baskets I remember that I should be capturing this fine minute on film. I grabbed our camera, laid on a throw pillow on the floor and took a few pictures.
What a bummer of an Easter morning for me, but clearly the boys never noticed the difference!!
The flu hit our house on Easter weekend. Makes me so sad. I love Easter church masses and was really looking forward to a day with my family! But alas, it was not to be.
After 2 full days of the boys with the flu, Easter Eve started with a 9:30 pm phone call from Jeremy. He was at work and trying to convince himself that his stomach ache was from the hamburger he ate at dinner. Nevermind the fact that he had stayed up all night on Thursday with a vomiting child and then spent the entire day on Friday with 2 sick boys. Yeah sure honey. It's probably the hamburger.
Sure enough, 11:30 pm rolls around and he is doubled over in pain. Can barely stop upchucking long enough to tell me he's on his way home. He made the drive home and arrived just after midnight. Happy Easter.
Now it's 4 am. Leo wakes up having thrown up in bed again. We go through the now very familiar routine of clean up, so much so that he is telling me what to do step by step. I have no idea where he gets his bossy side!
And now it's Easter morning. My grand plan had been for Jeremy to hide all candy/eggs when he arrived home from work. Clearly that wasn't happening. As the boys made their way upstairs as they do every morning, I rolled over in bed only to discover that I, too, have a little bit of a rumble in the belly going on. Well, that's just freaking great! All possible Easter Bunny's are down for the count. But I must pull through.
I head downstairs under the guise of getting their morning juice. With each step my stomach is turning. I finally make it downstairs where I open 2 bags of candy and decide to just throw them in some piles on the living room floor. Then I grab their Easter baskets that I had made the night before, position them on the couch, grab their juices and head back upstairs.
I make the grand announcement that the Easter Bunny has arrived to which Justin replies "Oh, I bet he put out our eggs that we colored last night." Well, son of a bunny!!! I forgot the darned colored eggs!
I might be sick but I can still think on my feet (plus my sick kids were a little slow on the uptake). I told him that I should go down by myself and check. I hurried....ok, that's a lie....I made my way downstairs holding my stomach. Grabbed 6 of their eggs and put them on the living room floor with the rest of the piles. The smell sent me over the edge. This time before I went back up I grabbed the ol' puke bucket. It wasn't looking good at this point.
The boys come downstairs to see what the Easter Bunny has delivered. Nothing was hidden. Just sitting there in plain site. Not a plastic egg to be found! They could have cared less. Thank goodness for low expectations. They ran right past all of the candy and straight to their baskets. As they reveled in their gifts, I sat on the bottom step of our stairs holding tight to the puke bucket, just praying I could at least see them through this part of the morning.
Then from upstairs in the spare bedroom I hear Jeremy yelling for me. He is sicker than a dog and has a list of things he needs from me including water, toilet paper, and I'm not sure what else because instead of helping I just yelled back at him that I am sick too and I'm trying to watch the kids do their Easter morning stuff. Such a lovely wife.
Halfway through the boys going through their baskets I remember that I should be capturing this fine minute on film. I grabbed our camera, laid on a throw pillow on the floor and took a few pictures.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Sassy McSasserson and his sidekick Big Bossy McGee star in The Day After the Flu
The flu has hit the O'Brien household. And while I am thankful we are downward slope of this fun ride, this place between illness and full recovery has been...well, interesting to say the least. The combination of weak stomachs, dehydration, exhaustion, low fevers, and cabin fevers = sassy with a capital S.
Fortunately for me, my wonderful husband picked up the first 2 shifts (middle of the night Thursday and work day on Friday) so most of the dirty work...literally DIRTY work...was done by the time I got home from work yesterday.
This morning started with Leo waking up for all of 10 minutes to get doses of Tylenol and Mickey Mouse before falling back asleep in my bed. Justin on the other hand woke up with a skip in his step. He comes bounding up the steps ready to take on the day. He announced he is hungry. (ya think??) Very specifically his announcement of hunger was "Mom, my belly said oink. Or maybe it's going to throw up, but I think it just said oink."
We headed downstairs where he begged for every possible kind of breakfast. He had yet to keep any food down except for 3 bites of banana last night so we were going slow. He even tried to talk me into making blueberry muffins by telling me they are healthy. "REALLY, they are mom." But momma ain't in the mood to clean up blueberry vomit today so we stuck to toast.
We made it through the morning with both boys being relatively low key. Movies, Leapsters, small snacks. We even made it through a small lunch of eggs and banana bread. Very manageable. Leo took a decent afternoon nap, but Justin just played with his imaginary friends and his stuffed animals in his bed for an hour or so.
And then the afternoon hit. Seriously, I think it may have actually smacked me upside the head!
Enter: Sassy McSasserson and his sidekick Big Bossy McGee. Below is as close as I could get to an exact transcript of their conversation. I was in the middle of banking but I whipped open a Word document to get this all on paper. It was THAT good. I'll admit upfront that I should have stopped this little tirade, but it was too freaking hilarious.
Justin's lack of nap was starting to wear on him. He was getting very frustrated with his Leapster Wolverine game and so began the meltdown. And ever the annoying little brother, Leo pounced.
Leo: I not crying mommy. Justee crying!! (as he waves his plastic shovel in Justin's face).
Justin: Don't get me with your shovel, Leeee-O.
Leo: Then you aren’t coming to my house! (his new favorite sassy phrase).
Justin: I’m already at your house.
Leo: Well then OK. FINE.
(Justin mumbles some words of frustration with his Leapster.)
Leo: Quit saying words! Mom, put Justin to bed.
Me: No, Leo. And quit sassing. Justin is just tired.
Leo: Well then YOU are not listening to ME! (then to Justin in his very best bossy voice and with a wagging finger) YOU don't get to see the hamster at Big Daddy's house (Jeremy's parents). So never mind! (then some mumbled I didn't catch)
Me: What was the last part?
Leo: You heard me mom! And you don't get to go to Big Daddy's house.
Justin: Everyone gets to go to Big Daddy's house! Even mom gets to go because she is the one who drives.
and I just start laughing out loud. The whole conversation is just hilarious, but of course I am offending Justin by laughing at them.
Justin: MOM. IT'S. NOT. FUNNY! You are hurting my feelings.
So I try to get it under control. And then Justin resumes Leapster playing for all of about 5 seconds before he gets frustrated again. He reports in a very firm voice that he is giving it away, which for some reason is his new thing. He wants to give all of his stuff away as some sort of self punishment. I asked who he will give it to and he says "Gavin. Yeah, I will just give it to Gavin." I told him we are not giving away his Leapster and I end up just having to turn the game off. Which of course causes more of a meltdown. He is laying on my shoulder sobbing when Leo pipes up again.
Leo: NO PLAYING!
Justin through his sobs: We aren't playing Leo. Does this LOOK like we are playing?? If you don't stop sassing mom then I won't give you a Scooby Doo sticker chart. I was going to give you one after bedtime next week.
Leo reverts back to: You can't come to Big Daddy's house anymore.
Justin: Everyone goes to Big Daddy's house!
Leo: Weeeeelllll, Sammy and Saydie don't go! (our dogs).
Oh, he gotcha there Justin!!!
Justin: Well, sometimes they could go. Right mom? Because dad said a long, long, looooonnnngggg time ago that Saydie went there and bit one of Grandma E's pillows. NOW, can I just have my Leapster? Pu-LEEZ!!!!
So I gave him one more shot at the Leapster. I tried to talk him into a different game, but to no avail. Within minutes the tears were back. It was clear that we were in full meltdown mode. The no nap, exhaustion from the flu, and cabin fever had reached its peak. Off to bed he goes.
By this time his in full fledged freak out. Bawling and crying. Refusing to get into his bed or to stay in it when I put him in there. Somehow I am remaining calm and generally entertained by the whole thing. I just kept telling him that I know how tired he is from being sick and he will feel better if he just lays down for a nap.
He replies by screaming and telling me to just take all of his toys and stuffed animals. (so we are back to the self-punishment). I politely decline and start walking out of the room and he starts yelling at me to take his piggy banks. He wants me to throw them in the trash. And take all of his pictures, the laundry basket, and the basketball goal out and throw them away. I asked him why we would throw all of his stuff away and he said it was because I am making him go to bed!
I told him to just go to bed and slowly backed out of the room and he yells after me "I don't want you to be my MOM!!!"
Oh that's just freaking great. Cuz I'm having a ball here myself! But I get it. He is beyond exhausted and just spouting anything that comes to mind. I shut his door and go downstairs. Within a few minutes he opens it and sets the stepping stool to his bed outside of his door. Then yells down to me that I need to take his bed out of his room. The poor kid was delirious by this point. I don't think he could even cry anymore. He was frantically looking around his room for things that I should take out. I felt so bad for him that I finally just said that I would lay down with him for a few minutes and then when he wakes up we can figure out what items he wants removed from his room.
And somehow that was all he needed to hear because he said OK, crawled in bed, curled up in a ball, and calmed down. I laid down face to face with him and watched my sweet little 4 year old fall asleep in about 45 seconds. And the very, very, very best part of my day so far....right before he went to sleep he just looked at my with his heavy eyes and said "Love ya mom."
Melts my heart!!
We will see what the 2nd half of the day brings. My plan was to decorate Easter Eggs. Surely there will be something blog-worthy in that experience!!!
Fortunately for me, my wonderful husband picked up the first 2 shifts (middle of the night Thursday and work day on Friday) so most of the dirty work...literally DIRTY work...was done by the time I got home from work yesterday.
This morning started with Leo waking up for all of 10 minutes to get doses of Tylenol and Mickey Mouse before falling back asleep in my bed. Justin on the other hand woke up with a skip in his step. He comes bounding up the steps ready to take on the day. He announced he is hungry. (ya think??) Very specifically his announcement of hunger was "Mom, my belly said oink. Or maybe it's going to throw up, but I think it just said oink."
We headed downstairs where he begged for every possible kind of breakfast. He had yet to keep any food down except for 3 bites of banana last night so we were going slow. He even tried to talk me into making blueberry muffins by telling me they are healthy. "REALLY, they are mom." But momma ain't in the mood to clean up blueberry vomit today so we stuck to toast.
We made it through the morning with both boys being relatively low key. Movies, Leapsters, small snacks. We even made it through a small lunch of eggs and banana bread. Very manageable. Leo took a decent afternoon nap, but Justin just played with his imaginary friends and his stuffed animals in his bed for an hour or so.
And then the afternoon hit. Seriously, I think it may have actually smacked me upside the head!
Enter: Sassy McSasserson and his sidekick Big Bossy McGee. Below is as close as I could get to an exact transcript of their conversation. I was in the middle of banking but I whipped open a Word document to get this all on paper. It was THAT good. I'll admit upfront that I should have stopped this little tirade, but it was too freaking hilarious.
Justin's lack of nap was starting to wear on him. He was getting very frustrated with his Leapster Wolverine game and so began the meltdown. And ever the annoying little brother, Leo pounced.
Leo: I not crying mommy. Justee crying!! (as he waves his plastic shovel in Justin's face).
Justin: Don't get me with your shovel, Leeee-O.
Leo: Then you aren’t coming to my house! (his new favorite sassy phrase).
Justin: I’m already at your house.
Leo: Well then OK. FINE.
(Justin mumbles some words of frustration with his Leapster.)
Leo: Quit saying words! Mom, put Justin to bed.
Me: No, Leo. And quit sassing. Justin is just tired.
Leo: Well then YOU are not listening to ME! (then to Justin in his very best bossy voice and with a wagging finger) YOU don't get to see the hamster at Big Daddy's house (Jeremy's parents). So never mind! (then some mumbled I didn't catch)
Me: What was the last part?
Leo: You heard me mom! And you don't get to go to Big Daddy's house.
Justin: Everyone gets to go to Big Daddy's house! Even mom gets to go because she is the one who drives.
and I just start laughing out loud. The whole conversation is just hilarious, but of course I am offending Justin by laughing at them.
Justin: MOM. IT'S. NOT. FUNNY! You are hurting my feelings.
So I try to get it under control. And then Justin resumes Leapster playing for all of about 5 seconds before he gets frustrated again. He reports in a very firm voice that he is giving it away, which for some reason is his new thing. He wants to give all of his stuff away as some sort of self punishment. I asked who he will give it to and he says "Gavin. Yeah, I will just give it to Gavin." I told him we are not giving away his Leapster and I end up just having to turn the game off. Which of course causes more of a meltdown. He is laying on my shoulder sobbing when Leo pipes up again.
Leo: NO PLAYING!
Justin through his sobs: We aren't playing Leo. Does this LOOK like we are playing?? If you don't stop sassing mom then I won't give you a Scooby Doo sticker chart. I was going to give you one after bedtime next week.
Leo reverts back to: You can't come to Big Daddy's house anymore.
Justin: Everyone goes to Big Daddy's house!
Leo: Weeeeelllll, Sammy and Saydie don't go! (our dogs).
Oh, he gotcha there Justin!!!
Justin: Well, sometimes they could go. Right mom? Because dad said a long, long, looooonnnngggg time ago that Saydie went there and bit one of Grandma E's pillows. NOW, can I just have my Leapster? Pu-LEEZ!!!!
So I gave him one more shot at the Leapster. I tried to talk him into a different game, but to no avail. Within minutes the tears were back. It was clear that we were in full meltdown mode. The no nap, exhaustion from the flu, and cabin fever had reached its peak. Off to bed he goes.
By this time his in full fledged freak out. Bawling and crying. Refusing to get into his bed or to stay in it when I put him in there. Somehow I am remaining calm and generally entertained by the whole thing. I just kept telling him that I know how tired he is from being sick and he will feel better if he just lays down for a nap.
He replies by screaming and telling me to just take all of his toys and stuffed animals. (so we are back to the self-punishment). I politely decline and start walking out of the room and he starts yelling at me to take his piggy banks. He wants me to throw them in the trash. And take all of his pictures, the laundry basket, and the basketball goal out and throw them away. I asked him why we would throw all of his stuff away and he said it was because I am making him go to bed!
I told him to just go to bed and slowly backed out of the room and he yells after me "I don't want you to be my MOM!!!"
Oh that's just freaking great. Cuz I'm having a ball here myself! But I get it. He is beyond exhausted and just spouting anything that comes to mind. I shut his door and go downstairs. Within a few minutes he opens it and sets the stepping stool to his bed outside of his door. Then yells down to me that I need to take his bed out of his room. The poor kid was delirious by this point. I don't think he could even cry anymore. He was frantically looking around his room for things that I should take out. I felt so bad for him that I finally just said that I would lay down with him for a few minutes and then when he wakes up we can figure out what items he wants removed from his room.
And somehow that was all he needed to hear because he said OK, crawled in bed, curled up in a ball, and calmed down. I laid down face to face with him and watched my sweet little 4 year old fall asleep in about 45 seconds. And the very, very, very best part of my day so far....right before he went to sleep he just looked at my with his heavy eyes and said "Love ya mom."
Melts my heart!!
We will see what the 2nd half of the day brings. My plan was to decorate Easter Eggs. Surely there will be something blog-worthy in that experience!!!
Sunday, April 17, 2011
OZ
I have said this to some people before, but I find it to be more and more true every day: I think I am the Wizard of Oz reincarnate.
Don't laugh. OK, laugh...that is pretty much the whole point of my blog anyway. But hear me out.
I may look like I've got it all under control, but really I am standing behind a curtain pushing various buttons and pulling levers in a great attempt to make life look easy. But behind the scenes...chaos!! Absolute chaos. At home. At work. Anywhere and everywhere I go. I can't seem to get anything fully accomplished. I've started several things....including a blog post a few weeks ago that never came together, but I can't see anything all the way through. Maybe it's more ADD as opposed to O-Z....but the Oz comparison is much more fun!
If only I could click my red sparkly heels and it would all be resolved. So wait. Now I am wearing Dorothy's ruby slippers? Am I part Wizard of Oz, part Dorothy? Or am I just the Wizard with heels? Do I have a split personality or am I a cross-dressing Wizard? That might be a whole other blog entirely!
But, all I really want to be is the Glinda the Good Witch of the South. And I know what you are all thinking. The Wicked Witch of the West might be more accurate most of the time. It's OK. I embrace my bitchy side. I own it. Sometimes I stand in my kitchen or at my desk at work and look into my crystal ball and cast spells on all of you just for my amusement. I don't mean any real harm. Not like I am going to drop a house on you. Or am I?????
But I really want to be Glinda (read in whiny voice). I really, really want to. Why can't I be Glinda?? She actually gets things done. Who wouldn't want to fly around in a bubble in a pretty dress? The Wizard is a freaking mess that everyone thinks has a lot of power, but likely has one foot planted firmly across the threshold of the loony bin. Yup, that me.
Glinda is not only the Good Witch but she doesn't actually do things for Dorothy and her clan. She just encourages them and points them in the right direction. But not the Wizard. Oh no. He has everyone convinced that they can't accomplish anything without him. He creates dependency on his "powers." Oh wait, that's me AGAIN.
AND....Glinda has a magic wand. I need a freakin' magic wand. Poof the house is cleaned. Poof the record copies and redactions are done. Poof all of the billing is done for work and home. Poof my filing is complete. Poof the laundry is folded and put away. Yup, I need me a magic wand. I wouldn't use it for evil. I swear I wouldn't!!!
But alas, no magic wand to be found in this home. Instead I will continue to hide behind my curtain feverishly pushing buttons and pulling levers in an attempt to make it all come together each and every day. One of these days I'm going to drift off in my hot air balloon. With my luck though it will probably snag on a tree about 3 blocks from home and I'll just end up walking my crazy self back to my own front door. Ain't nothing on the other side of the rainbow anyway...or so I hear.
OK, enough blogging for today. I think I have sufficiently brought myself out of my writers block. I am waiting for my munchkins to wake up from their naps. I swear if they come down the stairs kicking their legs and singing "We represent the Lolly Pop kids" I will know I've really lost it. But more than likely they will be the flying monkeys! Screeching and flying through the house. I think I see the beginning of some possible Halloween costumes.
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