Rainy Days Aren't
Good Days
For Ice Cream

Every night missions are launched in my home to advert bedtime. We have the typical, "I need a drink of water" excuses.

Ethan's is the most creative. He comes in my bedroom, sits on my bed and says, "Mommy, we need to talk about Dader."

At first I thought Dader was a new imaginary friend. I have realized that Dader is actually the physical therapist my husband had after having knee surgery. Ethan had fallen while he was here one day, cut open a spot right above his eye and "Dader" helped him.

Fortunately, I can sometimes be as creative as my children, so when Ethan wants to talk about Dader, I pick up the phone and pretend to call him. Dader then sends a message to Ethan to GO TO BED.

Matthew and Emily were fighting in the bedroom. Matthew yells, "don't bite me, she's trying to bite me!"

Emily wails out and says, "I wasn't biting him, I was wiping boogers on him!"

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Last night as I was cooking dinner, I asked Emily about 20 times to please leave the kitchen. Hot pans and three year old hands don't go well together.

The 21st time of asking I said, "Emily, get out of my kitchen."

This greatly offended her. She ran out, hands on hips and then whipped around to then scold me for not being nice.

Wagging her finger she says, "That's not nice! You hurt my feelings! Go to time out, mommy! Say you're sorry!"

I had to hold back my laughter while explaining to her that I was more concerned about her body being hurt than her feelings - the pans are hot and could burn her.

She pouted for a bit.

Ethan has been sick for about two weeks. He's had the typical daycare crud; runny nose, cough, glassy eyes i.e. a cold. It began to clear and he had just a remaining cough, until two days ago when the nose started again with thick, green snot - and LOTS of it. His cough was worse and his fever spiked to 103. No big deal, I gave him a suppository for the fever and sat up with him in the recliner all night. Of course, it did require a call to the on-call nurse who listened to him over the phone, said to use the cool mist humidifier and see the doctor in the morning. I dragged at work the next day but hey, that's what happens when you're a mom sometimes.

He was off to the doctor yesterday afternoon. We got the typical song and dance that it was a virus, give him lots of fluids, keep the fever under control, lots of rest and he will be fine. I was exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before and tried to prepare him for a good night's rest. I give him a bath in vapor bath, slathered him up with Vick's, put on cool, loose fitting pj's, treated his fever with a suppository and went to the recliner to rock.

Fast forward to 1:00am. His breathing was worse and he is screaming. With each breath I could see the outline of his ribs - "OMG, chest pulling." I counted his respiration's - 66 - that's high. His pulse was racing. A green goo was starting to seep from his eyes. Ok, that's it, we have to go to the emergency room! (Of course, these types of runs can ONLY be in the middle of the night.)

We rush around, I throw on the clothes I had from the day before and pull my hair up in a dishevelled pony tail. The dreaded middle of the night phone call to my mother-in-law, who was more than willing to come and sit with the other two kids while we take Mr. Snotty to the hospital. I toss a few diapers in the diaper bag, that emergency can of pre-made formula and a bottle and a few spare changes of clothes. Ok, we are ready!

My mother-in-law arrived within minutes of our call - yes - grandmother's CAN and ARE faster than any 911 responder! While I'm walking with Ethan to the car I walk through a spiderweb which has a GIANT (anything larger than a quarter is GIANT) spider. I screamed. Ethan startled. Nick looked at me like I was a fruitcake and said he couldn't even see the spider.

We make it to the hospital and are welcomed by the valet guy telling us he is going to just leave our vehicle where it is until we are sure we want to stay.

"Busy night?" I questioned.

The reply was an unrecognizable grunt like sound.

We walk through security and it was the first time the metal detector didn't go off! We didn't have to have the manual "wanding" - woohoo! Through triage we go and the typical work up is done. His vitals were a little off - which I knew - which is why we were there.

"Ok, good. I made the right decision to bring him," I thought.

The nurses make some comments about the green ooze coming from Mr. Snotty's nose and choose to swab it and we are asked to wait in the waiting room.

There was very little room but we managed to find two seats smack dab in the middle. Obviously it's been a busy night, face masks, towels, spilled drinks and trash all pepper the floor. It's now a little after 2am. One woman, we will call "show, show" because her clothing is so tight, and her child is pulling it on so many different directions, most of her should be covered body is showing, is walking around trying to encourage other families with children to leave. "I've been here three hours already," she says. "There are probably five people in front of me."

I just shrugged my shoulders at "show, show" and made small talk.

Ethan, however, has decided the ER waiting room is the greatest place in the world. He is watching anyone and everyone. Several individuals even deserved a wave from the little guy. He was full of smiles, full of spark. The thought begins to cross my mind that we really don't need to be there.

A man and two women walk in. They are talking very loudly about a girl that was being brought in that had been shot in both legs. I wanted to tell "show, show" that it looks like there are now six in front of her - but refrained.

We sat on the world's most uncomfortable chairs for hours. The time felt like it was doubled because the poor boy sitting across from us, just a little older than Ethan, had bitten through his tongue and was screaming nearly our entire wait. Poor little guy.

"Wow, my leg feels warm," I thought as a warm sensation moved across my thigh like water, WATER! I look down and a huge wet spot is on my jeans. Apparently Ethan's diaper did not get put back on just right after his temperature was taken and now I'm in pee jeans. Ok, whatever, I take him to the bathroom to change his pants.

We get back and Mr. Snotty is energized and ready to go. He realizes that every noise he makes echos and makes it a game. His game involves a quick screech, listening to the echo, giggling and then doing it again. This baby isn't sick enough to be here. This baby is acting normal. He continues with his game until every one of the sleeping, sick children are awake, fussing and their parents are glaring at me.

Yes, because it's easy to control an 11 month old when they are making noise. Let me just get the ball gag out. . .*rolls eyes*

We decide that our wait has been long enough, Ethan is obviously fine and check out at the triage desk where his vitals were back to normal. We went home. Ethan slept well the rest of the night.

The other night I got Emily out of the bath and was doing her typical grooming - powder, lotion, pj's, brushing teeth and of course, brushing her hair. Emily's hair is wild. It's a cross between Side Show Bob and a little Troll. It's light, fluffy and CURLY.

To get through it after a bath you must use "No More Tangles" and gently brush it out. Well I did that and it was brushed and parted. Because it was wet it had not sprung back into its wild state. She looked in the mirror and with disdain in her three year old voice said, "Mommy, I don't look good."

"What do you mean you don't look good?"

"I look like Scarlett!!" (Scarlett is a little girl in the baby room at school with very straight hair.)

"Well, what is it, Emily? Your hair?"

"Yes, fix it, I want it wild and curly!"

Uggg and it begins. . .

"They call him dimples. . .they call him little e. . .they call him freddy. . .they call him marvin."

"THAT'S NOT HIS NAME! THAT'S NOT HIS NAME! THAT'S NOT HIS NAME! THAT'S NOT HIS NAME!"

Sing this along to the tune of "That's Not My Name" by the Ting Tings and imagine a small baby, bobbing up and down with a grin from ear to ear. This is an event in our house on a daily basis, as I must always use songs from pop culture to make into dumb little sing songs for my kids.

This is Ethan's.

The Ting Tings - That's Not My Name

Unlike his mother, Matthew is an early riser. He is a morning person! How I was blessed with a morning person as a child, I haven't a clue. Yes I do, it shows us that God really does have a sense of humor.

It started when he was no longer in a crib. I learned early on that if I didn't want a kitchen floor full of condiments, I needed to find a means to keep this child in his room. Child safety gates worked for a while.

Now, not so much.

At eight, you would think we would be out of the woods with the early morning curiosity, uh, no. In the last few weeks my husband and I have woke to a kitchen with evidence that he was there. Chocolate frosting container open with all too telling fork marks, left over birthday cake with long, skinny finger tracks proving SOMEONE had a few fingerfulls of whipped cream icing that morning.

The funniest was about two weeks ago when he went outside to see the neighborhood stray that likes to nap on our front porch. Of course, you can imagine my horror when I find out that he was outside while we were still asleep, but it gets worse. Not only did he go out to see the stray, he went next door to the new neighbors house who had recently moved in and still had some items on their front porch. One item happened to be an old exercise bike; which Matthew, of course, took the liberty of riding on at 7:00am! OMG! I about died.

We then stressed how important it was for him to not go outside the house if we weren't awake yet!

The other day Emily was sitting on the floor playing.

"PPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT" and then immediate giggles. Yes, we are real people and we think farting is funny!

She looked up at me, mid-laugh and said, "I needled mommy!"

"You what?"

"I needled!"

Indeed, my daughter calls farts - needles.