Down with the Sickness

On Monday, R flew to Miami for work. On Tuesday, a plague befell our home. On Wednesday and Thursday, I was racked with guilt as the Salad watched 13 straight hours of TV, while I disinfected every inch of the house. On Friday, I lost my mind. On Saturday, R came home to find me rocking in the corner, grinning insanely, lipstick smeared across my face.

I tell you these things, not so you feel sorry for me, although if ever there was a time to pity a person, surely being vomited on for 74 straight hours would be it. I tell you these things to provide background. So that someday, maybe 5 years from now, maybe 50 years from now, A reads this post and knows I am so proud to be her mommy.

For the first 2 days, she somehow managed to escape the stomach virus that brought the others to their knees, literally. And she took it upon herself to blow her brother's nose, hold back her sister's hair, fetch blankets, "run them a nice, warm bath" and make tea and toast for breakfast. I couldn't have asked for a more thoughtful and competent partner.


A was the Robin to my Batman, the Hardy to my Laurel.

She was my Florence Nightingale wrapped up in a 4 year old body.

That I am talking about a 4 year old surprises me.

That I am talking about my 4 year old amazes me.

You amaze me, little girl.

KID in the Hall

Is she trying to "crush my head like a grape"?

It's hereditary

Something about the Dodge Durango has always reminded me of Falkor the Luck Dragon from The NeverEnding Story.



Clearly, my mind works in mysterious ways.

Clearly, so does his . . .

Random Collection of Memories

* After gymnastics on Friday, we grabbed our gardening gloves and tools and headed down to Grammy's. We were about 10 minutes into weeding when Grammy grabbed what she thought was a stick. Turned out to be an 8" garter snake. And that was the end of gardening for us.

* We've been enjoying the spring like weather, digging in the dirt every chance we get. The other day, I asked M what he was mixing up after watching him throw dirt, small rocks and water into a bucket. "Concreek," he answered.

* We celebrated Dr. Seuss' birthday the first week of March. We made a "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish" Venn diagram, using their hula hoops.

* On a recent car ride home from Grammy and Pop's, I stopped at a red light and peeked in the rear view mirror. M was counting the stickers that he has been collecting on his window for the last 2 years. S was drawing our family on her magna doodle and A was reading "If you take a Mouse to School." Our windows were down, breathing in 70 degree fresh air. Before they could realize it, I flipped off their kid's music CD and turned on Ani Difranco. I made it through 4 glorious songs before anyone even spoke. I freaking love times like that.

My Mulligan

M was doing a typical 4 year old "My PJs are lumpy, I want water, there was a light in my window, I hear a noise" crying thing the other night, right before bed. I just wanted my day to be over. I went in and said, "What do you want? Please go to bed! I'm not coming back in this room, so if you continue to cry, you will cry yourself to sleep." I heard my voice and immediately, I felt terrible. I felt even worse when he looked up and said in his tiny voice, "I'm sorry, Mommy. Are we still best friends?" I kissed away his tears and slunk out of the room.


Damn.


I want a do-over.

Luck of the (partially) Irish

The Salad woke up to green water in the toilets on St. Patrick's Day. I told them leprechauns must have used our bathrooms overnight. S told me I was the silliest mommy on earth. The marvels of green food coloring.

I had gone downstairs early this morning and dropped green food coloring into the bottoms of our clear milk glasses, so that when I poured their milks, the Salad thought it was magic. I truly LOVE this age. I also LOVE green food coloring.
We went to Giggle Gang after breakfast and made some clover crafts, while listening to a book about the day. Then I treated them to McDonald's for lunch. Like any Irish blooded American, we ordered a shamrock shake and took the obligatory one sip, before declaring it "gross." They always seem like such a great idea.

We soaked up every bit of the warm sunny day, searching for 4 leaf clovers on our lawn. When we didn't find any, M said we didn't need them anyway. "We were soooo lucky today because we saw a street sweeper on our block and got 4 extra chicken nuggets!"

Gotta go now . . . I'm giving the Salad a bath in a tub full of green water. And no, not with green food coloring.

Fat Patrick's Day

S and A weren't feeling so hot on Mardi Gras, so we stayed home from our usual Tuesday at the library. That was OK with me, since I'm too scared to tell our librarian that we "misplaced" a book on baseball that we borrowed. Seems it vanished into thin air, or gotten tossed out of a car window while driving on the highway, or flushed down the toilet, or left out in one of the many snowstorms we had this winter, or . . . well, the possibilities are endless.

But I digress, we stayed home. While our King's Cake was in the oven, the Salad decorated masks and I taught them about Mardi Gras, or Fat Tuesday. They also know that St. Patrick's Day is coming up and A has been getting confused, asking when Fat Patrick's Day is. Cracks me up every time.

But I digress, we decorated masks. Then we colored some jesters and practiced our letters writing MARDI GRAS. Before lunch, we gathered a bag of clementines and candy and beads for our "parade" later in the afternoon. I taught them the words to "When the Saints Go Marching In." Of course that opened a can of worms I was unprepared for, when asked where do the saints march into?

But I digress, we learned the song. After quiet time, I asked them each to choose a dress up outfit and a musical instrument. Then we had our parade and I marched that Salad through every room of our house. I even marched them into the half bath in our master bedroom, herding them like cattle into a room measuring 3' x 3'. They laughed hysterically when I started throwing clementines, candy and beads at them, all the while singing and playing "When the Saints Go Marching In." It was at precisely this moment that our friends down the street knocked on our door to invite us to play, but we were singing so loudly that we didn't hear them. What must we have looked like to their nanny as she peeked in our window, me throwing fruit at a disorganized marching band of youngsters?

But I digress, we marched. We finished off Fat Patrick's Day with Bourbon Chicken, King's Cake and big smiles.