On tuesday of this week, Dusty & I decided that it would be nice to go have dinner where there weren't chicken nuggets on the menu. I could really use a tilapia wrap and a seat on the patio, so we head to Jordan St. Cafe.
Patio is full. Ok, we'll just take that booth in the very back that's far away from all the people that don't want kids in their general area. There's not even a kid's menu at this place. We should have never been there!
Dusty finished his meal and we were trying to bribe Gus to eat his, but he kept refusing. He started pointing at my glass of water so I gave him a few sips. THEN, he starts pointing at his mouth and whining. So I pick him up and tell him to "tell mommie what's wrong" and as I lift him above my eye level he let's loose. Lunch, and what seems to be 2 gallons of juice. From my head to my toes, I am soaked. Frozen. Dusty says- go to the bathroom. And do what? Game over dude- let's go. I pick Gus up and tell Dusty to ask for rags and whatever spray they have and clean up everything, leave a good tip and promise them we will never come back.
Out to the car where Gus gets a full strip down. Luckily, Dusty has a few extra clothing items in his car for me to change into. He's laughing at me when he opens the door and I'm sitting there still in complete shock of the current events. Did that happen? Is there corn in my hair and ears? Did the waitress do a complete 360 as she saw what was transpiring? Did they get our names or pictures? We'll just do call in for a lil while. Like 18 years or so.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Cleanliness is next to...
Well I try to keep things clean, but with a toddler, that task is next to impossible. If I had it my way, we would live in a white house with white walls, white carpet, white cabinets, white tile, white towels, white appliances, and white furniture. Except when you add life to a home, it becomes dingy. Boooo. Don't like dingy.
When Gus first started getting around the house and dragging toys out, I would spend every evening putting everything back into it's place. Even the puzzle pieces had to be with the correct puzzles, the army men in their designated bucket, the cars had their own basket, and the rings were stacked on the post. Fast forward 2 years and you find me kicking through toys in order to clear a path to whichever room I'm trying to get in to. My carpet has been painted with butter and my cabinets with chocolate syrup. When we need new carpet I'm looking for a buttery chocolate color. Just to be safe.
You know those houses that you go to where everything is all perfect? Those people that get to have glass tables with no smudges and cream colored carpet and couches....ugh, seems so bland. You see that they have uncolored walls (I mean colored by crayola) and space. I forgot what space was. Now everything is jammed into any open spot possible. You see their "space" and think of how many things you could fit in there. I could put a loveseat, a toddler chair, the entire "Handy Manny" playset, a drum, 2 army men buckets, and 14 big wheels in that "space".
So, if cleanliness is next to Godliness, then what does that make me? A Mom. A mom who cares more about spending time playing baseball in the front yard than scrubbing carpets. A little dirt is good for immunity anyway, right?
When Gus first started getting around the house and dragging toys out, I would spend every evening putting everything back into it's place. Even the puzzle pieces had to be with the correct puzzles, the army men in their designated bucket, the cars had their own basket, and the rings were stacked on the post. Fast forward 2 years and you find me kicking through toys in order to clear a path to whichever room I'm trying to get in to. My carpet has been painted with butter and my cabinets with chocolate syrup. When we need new carpet I'm looking for a buttery chocolate color. Just to be safe.
You know those houses that you go to where everything is all perfect? Those people that get to have glass tables with no smudges and cream colored carpet and couches....ugh, seems so bland. You see that they have uncolored walls (I mean colored by crayola) and space. I forgot what space was. Now everything is jammed into any open spot possible. You see their "space" and think of how many things you could fit in there. I could put a loveseat, a toddler chair, the entire "Handy Manny" playset, a drum, 2 army men buckets, and 14 big wheels in that "space".
So, if cleanliness is next to Godliness, then what does that make me? A Mom. A mom who cares more about spending time playing baseball in the front yard than scrubbing carpets. A little dirt is good for immunity anyway, right?
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Desperate scenarios
As I woke up this morning to birds chirping outside of Gus' window...wait...why is that bird so loud? Um, because I left his windows open all night long and the monitor is on a table right inside the window. Great- he's probably frozen and going to have a respiratory illness on top of this virus we've been fighting together. Dusty's already up, so I send him in to shut the windows. In his usual "stealth" mode he goes in to shut the windows. More like busts through the door and slams the windows shut through the banging blinds. AND, Gus is awake. It's 6am on Saturday morning. Luckily, he does go back to sleep! Me-no way. We've already been over this, I'm awake now.
So, I lay in bed and think of what to do with this day. I can see sunlight through our tiny windows in our basement "apartment". I could get up and go on a walk. Nope, the pinched nerve in my back back won't allow for that. (another pregnancy perk) I'll get up and go look at the garden, maybe pluck some weeds. Nope, it's too wet still. I could go down the street and have coffee with one of the desperate housewives on the "lane". Nope, those don't really exist. This gets me to thinking, what if we did live on a lane where any of these crazy scenarios took place. Like, what if I had to go down the street to tell my girlfriend that 10 years ago, my son had ran over her mother in law who was running from the house to tell her husband that she was having an affair. The reason I'm telling her now is because my 2nd husband just left me seeing as how I made him go to jail for running over my other girlfriends husband, which of course was years ago as well because now he can't even drive since he's in a wheel chair after being hit by a car fighting in a playhouse against my lover who was originally married to the girlfriend who's husband my husband had run over.
See- isn't that way juicier than what we all have to talk about? People say, reality TV isn't real. Of course it isn't. Cause real life is pretty boring according to our standards that we've set for TV to hand out to us. I'd like to think that a camera set up in our house might catch some pretty good comedic episodes appropriate for primetime. It would start with Gus screaming "Daddy Robinson" from his bed. He has to yell because we unlike most "good" parents have put a lock on the inside of his door so he can't come sneaking into our room. Real mean huh- has worked, is working, will work. I drew the line when a large portion of my house was painted in butter and chocolate syrup one morning. This is our reality.
So what did I ever decide to do this morning? I settled for making homemade french toast with my own blueberry compote. That turned out pretty well. I don't even like coffee anyway.
So, I lay in bed and think of what to do with this day. I can see sunlight through our tiny windows in our basement "apartment". I could get up and go on a walk. Nope, the pinched nerve in my back back won't allow for that. (another pregnancy perk) I'll get up and go look at the garden, maybe pluck some weeds. Nope, it's too wet still. I could go down the street and have coffee with one of the desperate housewives on the "lane". Nope, those don't really exist. This gets me to thinking, what if we did live on a lane where any of these crazy scenarios took place. Like, what if I had to go down the street to tell my girlfriend that 10 years ago, my son had ran over her mother in law who was running from the house to tell her husband that she was having an affair. The reason I'm telling her now is because my 2nd husband just left me seeing as how I made him go to jail for running over my other girlfriends husband, which of course was years ago as well because now he can't even drive since he's in a wheel chair after being hit by a car fighting in a playhouse against my lover who was originally married to the girlfriend who's husband my husband had run over.
See- isn't that way juicier than what we all have to talk about? People say, reality TV isn't real. Of course it isn't. Cause real life is pretty boring according to our standards that we've set for TV to hand out to us. I'd like to think that a camera set up in our house might catch some pretty good comedic episodes appropriate for primetime. It would start with Gus screaming "Daddy Robinson" from his bed. He has to yell because we unlike most "good" parents have put a lock on the inside of his door so he can't come sneaking into our room. Real mean huh- has worked, is working, will work. I drew the line when a large portion of my house was painted in butter and chocolate syrup one morning. This is our reality.
So what did I ever decide to do this morning? I settled for making homemade french toast with my own blueberry compote. That turned out pretty well. I don't even like coffee anyway.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Unkillable virus
After being in bed for several days and then dealing with a very sick little boy, I decided I need an outlet, so blogging it is. No one is available to talk to during the day and I already talk Dusty's ear off when he gets home, so at least this way, people can choose if they wanna "listen" to me.
May is always a very busy month for us. We walk every year in the Cystic Fibrosis walk that I work hard trying to raise money for and never seem to reach my goal. Then we have everything going on with the SSG Charlie Bagwell Memorial Scholarship, that we never seem to reach our goal on. We have to grade the applications, then interview the applicants, and on to the grand finale of our annual benefit concert. Then, there's Gus' birthday. I'm usually worn out by the time this comes around. This year however, my off week has been struck by the unkillable virus. Saturday after the benefit concert, it hit me. I figured I just worked myself too hard seeing as how I'm 23 weeks pregnant. ( I think, I keep losing track of this) Funny how that happens the second pregnancy. Anyhoo, it didn't stop all day Sunday and Sunday night and then into Monday. To try and save my job, I went on to work on Tuesday- dumb. Sick again. Then Wednesday mid morning- the virus strikes my son.
Now any mother knows that catching vomit is about as glamourous as it gets in motherhood. But we don't care. We just want our babies better. We don't mind that last nights hot dog is on our shirt and some applesauce is in our hair- ok, maybe we mind, but there is literally nothing we can do about it. These are the messes where you just stop and stare and say, where do I even begin? Can I take everything and everybody effected straight to the shower?
And if anyone is wondering where Dad is- he's asleep. He has to work tomorrow. When there is a sick kid- it's just assumed that Mommie doesn't have a job the next day. Dusty does get up from time to time, to go do investigative work. However, that's where it begins and ends. A couple of weeks ago Gus woke up crying and Dusty goes in to investigate and comes back so pleased that he solved the crime. "It's his toe, the one the nail is barely hanging on cause he hurt it while somebody was watching him at that thing we were at" Congrats big guy, but the baby is still crying? Allow me, I've almost gotten an hours worth of sleep tonight between the baby doing riverdance in utereo making me get up to pee every hour. See I'm one of these people that it takes a while to get to sleep, so once I'm up, I'm up. I give Dusty a hard time about falling asleep once his head hits the pillow- this is jealousy.
So Gus is sick and I'm recovering and steel immune system Dad is still fine and eating everything in the cupboards like he's unafraid of this unkillable virus. My hero!! Luckily he has done all the housework and managed to get Gus to school and back on the days that I was sick. Nothing really unusual about that though since Gus rides with him back and forth most everyday. See- they're best friends according to Gus.
Do you know how many food commercials are on during the day??
May is always a very busy month for us. We walk every year in the Cystic Fibrosis walk that I work hard trying to raise money for and never seem to reach my goal. Then we have everything going on with the SSG Charlie Bagwell Memorial Scholarship, that we never seem to reach our goal on. We have to grade the applications, then interview the applicants, and on to the grand finale of our annual benefit concert. Then, there's Gus' birthday. I'm usually worn out by the time this comes around. This year however, my off week has been struck by the unkillable virus. Saturday after the benefit concert, it hit me. I figured I just worked myself too hard seeing as how I'm 23 weeks pregnant. ( I think, I keep losing track of this) Funny how that happens the second pregnancy. Anyhoo, it didn't stop all day Sunday and Sunday night and then into Monday. To try and save my job, I went on to work on Tuesday- dumb. Sick again. Then Wednesday mid morning- the virus strikes my son.
Now any mother knows that catching vomit is about as glamourous as it gets in motherhood. But we don't care. We just want our babies better. We don't mind that last nights hot dog is on our shirt and some applesauce is in our hair- ok, maybe we mind, but there is literally nothing we can do about it. These are the messes where you just stop and stare and say, where do I even begin? Can I take everything and everybody effected straight to the shower?
And if anyone is wondering where Dad is- he's asleep. He has to work tomorrow. When there is a sick kid- it's just assumed that Mommie doesn't have a job the next day. Dusty does get up from time to time, to go do investigative work. However, that's where it begins and ends. A couple of weeks ago Gus woke up crying and Dusty goes in to investigate and comes back so pleased that he solved the crime. "It's his toe, the one the nail is barely hanging on cause he hurt it while somebody was watching him at that thing we were at" Congrats big guy, but the baby is still crying? Allow me, I've almost gotten an hours worth of sleep tonight between the baby doing riverdance in utereo making me get up to pee every hour. See I'm one of these people that it takes a while to get to sleep, so once I'm up, I'm up. I give Dusty a hard time about falling asleep once his head hits the pillow- this is jealousy.
So Gus is sick and I'm recovering and steel immune system Dad is still fine and eating everything in the cupboards like he's unafraid of this unkillable virus. My hero!! Luckily he has done all the housework and managed to get Gus to school and back on the days that I was sick. Nothing really unusual about that though since Gus rides with him back and forth most everyday. See- they're best friends according to Gus.
Do you know how many food commercials are on during the day??
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