I’m Relatively Certain It Isn’t the Swine Flu

I feel crappy, oh so crappy (sung to the tune of I Feel Pretty), I feel crappy and cruddy and baaad. My head aches, my nose is stuffy-or running, depending on its mood-and my throat hurts but; I’m not running a fever or having difficulty breathing nor am I generally achy so, just a common cold, no Swine Flu here, nothing to see folks, move along…

The Teenager is likewise ailing, in fact, I just returned from a mercy sandwich run to the school since she neglected to eat breakfast before leaving the house for a.m. Volleyball practice and the sinus drainage she is experiencing is making her sick to her stomach.

With any luck, we will both be feeling better by tomorrow when Hugh and I leave for Fall Market in Salt Lake City and she has a volleyball game.

If I’m not feeling better later today, I fully intend to make a big hairy deal out of the situation so that my own mother (who arrives with my father today to care for the children while we are away) will shower me with mercy and tender-loving care. What’s that you say; she is coming to care for the children? Hey, I was her child first; I have dibs on her affections as well as on her psuedo-medical training.

Before their arrival, however, I’m going to go to work because, unlike some people….cough…Hugh….cough…I suck it up and do my duties when I am sick.

Unless, of course,  I do develop Swine Flu in which case I will not leave the house because, I refuse to be seen in public sporting a wee curly tail and a snout, that shit's just not lady-like.

You Know it’s Going to be a Bad Day When Your Coffee Smells Like a Douche

Yesterday, I was greeted by a red blinking light on my coffee machine. Being a reasonable person, I logically assumed it was the countdown to a large explosion and I dropped to the floor.

When the light continued to blink with no discernible blast, I broke down and read the owner’s manual which informed me that the blinking light indicated that the machine needed to be cleaned.

I followed the manufacturer’s instructions for cleaning the machine-running pure vinegar through the brew cycle. I followed up with two brews using clear water and, yet, my coffee this morning reeked of Massengill.

It tasted ok, though.

What?! I needed the caffeine do not judge me!

Score

Today's birthday party for the Man-Cub went well. He and three of his friends are whooping it up on the Wii even as I write this and, since they are probably ridiculously high on sugar, I guess I can't blame them.

Prior to the party, the four of them played in football games and, although I wasn't present for the Cub's game, I am told he played spectacularly. In fact, Hugh called me on my cell to tell me that the Cub had just caught a punt return and ran for ten yards before a pile-drive by the other team sent him flying back five. Hugh said he bounced like Gumby, jumped back up, shook his head a couple of times and was back in the fray.

Later, he managed to tackle the biggest kid on the other team; Hugh said he jumped on the kids back, attached himself like a leech and, while being flung about like Raggedy Andy's bastard step-brother, still managed to bring the kid down.

I wish I could have been there but, I was at The Teenager's volleyball game, watching her team beat the competition.

It was a good day for sports in our household.

Now, I have to go referee the fights that are certain to break out during the Wii marathon downstairs and, you know, eat some cake before those boys finish it off.

Clearly, I have my priorities.

I Am a Multi-tasking Super Freak 

I just finished decorating the cake for the Man-Cub’s birthday party tomorrow. In addition to decorating the cake, I watched the season premiere of The Dollhouse, a recorded episode of Cougartown (New Favorite Show! Hee-LARIOUS!) did my Tooth Fairy duties (The Teenager had three teeth pulled to make way for her braces, yeah, um, yesterday. I forgot to do the money and fairy dust thing last night; thus ensuring my reign as the Worst Tooth Fairy in History- long live the Queen!) and I managed to whip up a pretty decent batch of red chili.

Tomorrow, I am planning to be at both a football and a volleyball game simultaneously while hosting the Cub’s birthday party and I promised a friend that I would help her move into her new house. Really; I am just that great at organizing my time.

Oh, and the part about me being a multi-tasking super freak? Yes, well, just delete the Mulit-tasking part and you have a pretty good picture of my personality.

Makes you feel better about yourself, doesn’t it?

Thursday Thirteen, Edition Seventeen:
Thirteen Stellar Moments in Parenting

1. The time I locked the keys and the children in the car. With the engine running. On a very public street. The 911 operator asked if one of the children could simply open the door from the inside and then sounded absolutely fluxomed when I explained that, while my daughter was three and probably could open the car door from inside, she was strapped into her car seat and could not release herself. Because that is what good parents do, they put their children in government-approved car seats. You know, when they aren’t locking them in cars with the engine running.

2. That time I accidentally thumped the Man-Cub’s wee little head into doorjamb simply because I misjudged the distance between the doorjamb and the child’s head. I blame sleep-deprivation (kid didn’t sleep through the night until he was a year old); other than the odd twitching, there doesn’t appear to be any residual damage.

3. The night the Tooth Fairy forgot to retrieve the Man-Cub’s tooth and he awoke to find no money. I will remember the look of disappointment on his face until they put me in my grave. Of course, it wasn’t my first screw-up as the Tooth Fairy and, as fate would have it, it wouldn’t be my last, which takes us to two days ago…

4. …The Girl texted from school, letting me know that she had one less tooth to have the dentist pull. I asked if that meant she had lost one and got a “Well, duh” for my trouble (ingrate). Later that day, she texted me again, requesting a peanut butter and jelly sandwich prior to her volleyball game. I made the sandwich, bagged it and handed it off to her when I arrived at the game. A few minutes later she came to me, pressed a crumpled sandwich bag in my hand and took to the court. I handed the baggie to the Man-Cub to throw away. After her game (they won, again!), she came to sit next to me and I asked her if she had saved the tooth for the Tooth Fairy (she’s a non-believer but is keeping the Faith for her brother) and she looked at me like I had just sprouted a second head before saying “Duh, I gave it to you”. Dumpster diving followed, tooth was recovered. Not my proudest moment.

5. At an appointment with the pediatrician, The Teenager, then about four years old, matter-of-factly informed the doctor that she liked milk in her coffee at breakfast. It took me five minutes to assure the doctor that the “coffee” was, in fact, hot cocoa, heavy on the milk and light on the cocoa. I swear.

6. There was that whole The Teenager Got Suspended From the Last Volleyball Game of the Season for Flipping the Competing Team the Bird incident last year. That was a special moment in parenting; her first obscene gesture! I think I might cry.

7. The day I was called into the Daycare Director’s office and asked to speak to the Man-Cub about not peeing on the playground, it’s just not appropriate for a four year old to do that, I mean, really; did he pee outside at home? (Yes, yes he did. In our defense, he totally learned that behavior from my nephew, who lived on a farm and, after a number of hours on a tractor with a giant Slurpee and no bathroom in sight, learned to improvise).

8. The last time we were called into the Principal’s office to discuss The Teenager’s behavior. That time was less ha, ha We Suck at the Parenting and more OH MY GOD, We Suck at the Parenting.

9. That time my kid ate a whole bottle of Flinstone chewable vitamins and the family doctor said to scare the kid into puking, so she was told-in no uncertain terms-that she was going to DIE, thus freaking her out enough to vomit copious amounts of day-glo orange vomit. Oh, wait, that wasn’t me, that was my mother. I was the vomiting kid. Eh, either way-stellar moment in parenting, I’m sure (sorry, Mom).

10. When the Man-Cub fell off the slide and we didn’t take him to the emergency room for two days because we thought it was just bruised. Yep, broken. Which, wouldn’t be so bad but, um, yeah, that happened twice. We rock.

11. When The Teenager was about four and having a Really Bad Day and I locked myself in the bathroom with the phone, called Hugh and tearfully explained to him that our daughter had been possessed by Satan and that he needed to get to St. Mary’s ASAP; I needed a priest for an exorcism and a rosary with which to bind the demon. Turned out the child had an ear infection. Same difference.

12. When one of the children’s’ hermit crabs died, I hosted the most touching funeral ever. Not long after, the other hermit crab died while I was on a business trip. I told Hugh to leave it in the cage and that I would handle the funeral arrangements when I got home in a couple of days. When I arrived home, I trudged up the stairs to The Teenager’s room to prepare the body for burial and the little fucker was standing on a rock, waving at me, next to his own corpse. A quick Google search confirmed that the crab hadn’t died but had molted and, the process takes a few days so, yeah, the other “dead” crab? Probably not so much dead as buried alive.

13. Of course, these are all stellar parenting moments in the sense that, hey, we really do suck at parenting. On the other hand, there are waaayy more than thirteen instances of us being sort of decent at the job so, you know, we’ll take the good with the bad. Because that is what parents do.

Eleven

I say it every year-I can't believe how much you have grown, I can't believe how much you have changed, where did my baby go? This year is no different; you have grown up in ways that I cannot begin to explain nor to fathom.

If someone had told me eleven years ago that I would have a son who was sweet-natured, humorous, sensitive, smart and a complete joy to be around, I would have smiled through my sleep-deprived stupor and said "I hope so". As it turns out, you are so much more than all those things, in fact; I could not have possibly thought to hope for everything that you are.

Happy birthday Man-Cub, we love you from the top of your unruly head of hair down to the dirt under your toenails and, while I'm on that subject; actually using soap in the shower wouldn't kill you.

Just kidding.

Speaking of Balls, I Kind of Feel Like I’ve dropped One

The Man-Cub turns eleven tomorrow. He has his regular vision therapy appointment (progress report to be posted soon) and, in a serendipitous turn of fate, his therapist also celebrates a birthday, tomorrow. I usually take treats to school in the afternoon on the kids’ birthdays but, since I have to take the Cub out of class an hour early, I decided to skip that particular ritual which makes me feel sort of bad.

After vision therapy, the Cub has a football game and, I thought about decorating his cake and taking it for his team to enjoy but, the weather has taken a turn for the ugly in the afternoons and I really don’t want to chance cutting and plating cake for twenty kids in the rain and/or wind, sleet and snow. Instead, I think I will pick up cupcakes at The Hellmouth and the Cub can hand them out after the game, much neater, still festive and less likely to make me want to chew off my own arm in search of escape.

This leaves us to enjoy his birthday cake on Saturday when he is scheduled to have several friends over for a slumber party. As fate would have it, there is another football game that day as well as a volleyball tournament in a town nearby and, while I guess I haven’t really dropped any balls, I just feel overwhelmed by the number of balls that we currently have in the air.

Oh, and did I mention that Hugh and I are going out of town next week for our annual Fall buyer’s market? No? It might have slipped my mind; what with all the hair-pulling and waffling I have been doing over the logistics involved in when to serve the Cub’s stupid birthday cake.

Aaaand I just remembered that I have yet to pick up a present for the child. I am almost as prepared for his birthday as I was for his birth (one week early) which is to say; not at all.

Gah.