It's all about the Gelt!

Last night we spent Hannukah at a friend's house. Originally a couple that wasn't Jewish, the mom decided to convert. Her husband will follow soon, she says. Anyways, her daughter and genius went to school together for two years, and then went to different schools for Kindergarten.

They hadn't seen each other for a while, so they went off to play. Her younger son and bruiser happily bounced off the walls, as they still go to the same nursery school.

Things were ok up until cookies and gelt time. Then they didn't want to be parted. My friend's daughter, Abby, decided to put on a party dress, and then come back to the play room. Apparently, according to her dad, this had quite an effect on genius. She came back in the room, and he asked her to marry him. Just when I walked in to investigate, they were playing together in the kitchen, just like a model couple, cooking dinner? together. Genius had a pink tea pot and walked towards Abby and said,"Here's your smoothie, my princess." He's five, remember? Anyway, it turns out they were playing knight and princess. No matter.

If my husband said that to me, erm, well, I can't put that online...

Surgery!

So last Friday bruiser had surgery to repair a minor hernia. I had to get up at 5am to make sure he was ready for an 8:40am surgery. Does that seem a little extreme? We had to be there at least two hours earlier.


We got to the hospital at o'dark thirty. I was told by all the nurses at his surgeon's office that there are absolutely NO toys or magazines or the like in the waiting room, so be sure to bring some stuff!

Ummmm, they were a little wrong. A whole kitchen set with puzzles, etc., existed in the corner. A T.V. hung on the wall. There was a coffee station with little snacks. No matter, I'd taken about 12 different toys, because I was afraid bruiser would be freaking out in a blank waiting room. As it turned out, a little boy his age had James and Thomas with him. Bruiser was in heaven, and ignored my proffered toys.

Once we got called to the back, bruiser was invited to sit in a toy Hummer and drink "giggle juice". This juice is a drug cocktail which makes 'em giggly and sleepy. As soon as bruiser drank it, he started to get loopy. Apparently my son has a thing for narcotics. After five minutes, I swear, he was really really enjoying himself.

Hubby showed up a few minutes before bruiser was taken to surgery. We had to wait for our bbsiter to show up for genius, so he could come. By THAT time, bruiser was throwing his stuffed elephant (they were nice enough to let me bring his favorite bedtime animals and his blankey for recovery) at my head.

I hated to see him being taken away, but luckily the OR nurses were grandmas, and bruiser was giving them wide open grins and giggling all the way down the hall.

Recovery: I was warned ahead of time, BUT it's hard to see them wake up. Some kids cry a LOT. Bruiser was screaming his head off and trying to pull out all the tubes and monitors. The recovery nurse (who tried to get us out asap, btw) said they get freaked out when they wake up and want to be exactly as they were before they got giggle juice, which also gives them amnesia. So, I had to change him back into his pajamas, take out all the monitors, etc. He also drank a whole cup of ice water and two popsicles. Then the nurse said (basically), he's had enough, take him home!

This whole week he's been pretty good, even when genius stepped on purpose, of course, on his incision on his belly. For a while genius was being very sweet to bruiser. However, the shock and worry over his surgery must have subsided, because hubby and I witnessed this little exchange last night. Bruiser had a brand new truck and was playing happily. Genius had a "magic pebble" a rock he got at the school playground.

G: Can I have the truck?
B: NO!
G: I'll give you this magic pebble, and you can make lots of wishes!
B: OK!
G: - takes truck and exits stage left.
B: OK! Daddy, you wanna make a wish? I got a magic pebble! I can make lots of wishes!

Oh dear. Well, at least everything is back to normal.

Underwear that's fun to wear!

So these last few days the boys and I have been home together. No school/activities, whatever, just fun with mom, er, sort of...

I thought we'd get out and do some fun things, but I was surprised when I was met with resistance.

On Thursday: "Mom, I'm going to rest for an hour, and then we can go out"
"No, I don't wanna change my 'jamas - no pants no shirt, no!" "Maybe we can go outside tomorrow" Yada yada yada....so Thursday nothing happened, although I did manage to do five loads of laundry.

Friday I pleaded to their gentler sides, I bribed them: "I'll take you to McDonalds (I hate that place) if you come with me to the post office!" - big cheesy smile, lots of fanfare.

"Ok, but I have to rest for a while""No change diaper - later!"
Finally - Genius let me take him in the car, but only if he didn't have to get dressed. He wore Thomas the Tank undies (which, now that I think about it, belong to his YOUNGER brother) and no shoes. We were going to drive by a post drop box, so it wasn't like we had to get out or anything.

In contrast, bruiser insisted I change his diaper and give him fresh shorts. However, he insisted on wearing the same shirt he wore/slept in yesterday. Fine. Let's get in the car!

We drop my mail off, drive through the drive-thru at McDee's, and head home. I get a message that our neighbor's dog will be alone for most of the day, and would the boys like to visit? Suddenly, genius runs upstairs, puts on shorts (backwards), grabs an old camera that uses *gasp* film - although it was currently empty- and announces he's ready! Bruiser clamps his shoes back on and tries to open the front door. What is it about boys and dogs????

We romp around with the dog for a bit, getting him and the boys tired out, and I snap photos of the "playdate" so my neighbor can see that we did in fact come over. It was pretty fun, even if I am allergic to dogs.

After about an hour, we go home. But now they don't want to go home! There are shouts of the park, some restaurant, ice cream, etc. It's so late by this time, I have no choice but to go home and make dinner. At least we got to be in the sunshine!

Parties!

Sunday was a long day. It's my own fault, mind you. Back to back 3 hour birthday parties without a break in-between. So I thought Monday would be relaxing...


Monday afternoon the phone rings: "HI THIS IS YOUR COUSIN LARRY I'M IN SANTA FE ON MY WAY TO ALBUQUERQUE AND LET'S HAVE DINNER! I'LL CALL YOU WHEN I GET TO MY HOTEL!" Click.

Oh well, at least I won't have to make dinner. I called Gregg to let him know his cousin called (his cousin is about 20, maybe?, years older than him), to which Gregg replied,"hmmm, he could have called us ahead of time! But that's ok."

We decide to take Larry to one of our kid friendly restaurants in town. The owner knows us and has told us on more than one occasion that she doesn't mind if the kids run around, etc. Pure heaven, I tell you. We order dinner, the kids run around a little, jumping off the karaoke stage in mock battle jumps.

After the appetizers come, genius decides he wants to sit next to Larry. Larry ruffles genius' curly hair (everyone does) and says,"You have curly hair!"

Genius replies, rubbing Larry's pate,"And you have bald hair!" Oh my. Gregg and I were at the other end of the table, sniggering into our napkins.

Larry, nonplussed, comes back with,"Do you know why I am bald?"

Genius, looking serious,"Because you're very old?"

At this point I'm pretty much choking, I'm laughing so hard. But I'm laughing with Larry, not at him. Just so you know.

After dinner, Larry went off to his hotel, and we stuffed our exhausted children in bed. I wasn't sure how Larry felt about the visit, but we had a few laughs. A day later, my mil called, and said we'd received a great compliment. Larry said the four hours he spent with us was the best time he ever had...

Baby Einstein Bagels

I decided to take genius and bruiser out after I picked up genius from kindergarten. I asked them where they wanted to go, and they screamed,

"BABY EINSTEIN BAGELS!"

It's too much work to explain to them that Baby Einstein is a profitable entertainment scam to make you feel like you are educating your child with "nourishing content" (and I'm a total victim :) ) and Einstein Bagels is a chain of eateries.

We stroll into the moderately crowded Einstein's, and they boys proceed to meander around everywhere, and I am sure as my back is turned, several people are boring their eyes into my head, sending me the message to control my offspring.

After I order (I do this fast to minimize the damage in the eatery) I turn around expecting mayhem. Instead, genius has set up camp at a table near some friendly elderly women. He directs bruiser to get a chair for mommy, and he does, dragging a chair that is easily 7" taller than him.

Genius has been conversing deeply with these ladies by the time I get all the drinks/snacks/purse settled without dropping anything. Apparently genius has been leaking personal home information about hubby and myself. I pray none of it is pornographic!

However, genius keeps everything PG, is super charming, and bruiser echoes his every word in order to earn some attention. I actually get to eat a few bites of my sandwich.

The boys are on their best behavior, and wish the ladies a nice day as they leave.

Then, genius turns to me and says, with a smirk,"Remember when I accidentally saw you naked one morning (giggles) and saw your 'gina?" OH MY GOD!

If there really is a rip in the fabric of time, this would have been a good time to rip it.

I looked around furtively and prayed the yuppie at the next table was too involved in picking his teeth to hear. Then I quietly explained that we NEVER talk about things like that in public.

Genius gave me a thoughtful look, and said,"Mom, can I ask you something?"

Thinking he was going to ask about the human body, etc, "Sure!"

"Can I have Heelies?"

I think I need a drink.

All These Girls.

Hubby had the day off today, and decided to sleep in and hang out with bruiser, while I got up early and took genius to school. Usually genius relishes any alone-time with mommy, and today was no exception. He was feeling a little anxious, and wouldn't let go of my hand after I took him outside for recess.

He tells me, "Hey Mom, let me show you around!"

(It's not like I've seen the playground a dozen or more times).

Sensing his anxiety, I go out with him and "hang out."

He starts with some sort of climber thingie: "MOM, look, no HERE - see the bridge???" I have to contort my body to see where he is, "THIS IS MY FAVORITE!!"

Then, he gets off of that contraption, and starts running towards the big play area, where the "big kids" are congregating. Just as we reach this mecca, a boy from genius' class runs up to him and says in a very determined way, "Genius, you HAVE to help me with THESE GIRLS (said with disdain)."

Genius takes one look and him and says, "I don't want you." and continues on his tour.

He shows me how he can navigate the monkey bars, and starts to explain how to use the slide, when a teacher blows a whistle for them to line up.

I stand next to him when he is in line and the most exciting thing happens. A first grader loses a baby tooth! Excitement breaks out within the troops; the little girl is offered congratulations, advice, and the teacher tells her she has a special box for the tooth.

My son leans over to her and says, "Now your grown-up tooth will come in."

How did he know that?

Birthday Party!

Today started off rather mundane. Or at least I intended it to be that way. I knew bruiser and genius had a b-day party to attend on Sunday, so I thought we'd all take it easy...

That is, until I checked the invitation (just to check the time, mind you) at 8:30am this morning, and discovered the party was TODAY at 9:30am. This discovery prompted lightning fast showering/bathing/dressing in about 20 minutes. Then a round of throwing the gifts in the car, a dessert for the boys (both are allergic to milk - and NO they are not just lactose intolerant) since they can't have cake, and also putting two of my sewing machines on the floor of the car, somewhere, anywhere, omg I have 5 minutes to get to this &*(^ party!!! More on the sewing machines later.

We make it to the party only slightly late, and that was due to the fact that although you can see the park from the street, the actual street you can park on to GO to the park is hidden inside a quaint neighborhood.

We manage to kill about two hours at the party. In the space of that time: bruiser was pushed and knocked heads with one kid, a puppy bit his finger, and he ate fistfuls of grapes, being one of two foods at the party the poor kid could eat.

Genius spent most of his time dodging the blonde 4 yr old girls who pathetically called his name over and over hoping he'd notice them. He didn't.

After the party, we headed over to the sewing machine store. If you figured out that I'm Indiscretion, you'll know that I sew clothing. Lots of clothing. Anyhoo...I had my trusty old Singer Touchtronic 2000 (given to me as a gift - used) that I was taking in for a second opinion, and my Pfaff 1469 (purchased used - it's from 1984 but I bought it over a year ago). The amount of money it would cost to tune up the Singer and fix the bobbin case on the Pfaff weren't worth fixing. While I mulled over the possibilities, the shop owner showed me some new machines (without any pressure, mind you) and let the kids play with one. Genius found the Brother machine with the push button sewing option (that's right, you don't need a foot pedal!) especially fascinating. The owner, Ryan, showed him how to pick a pattern, sew, and then cut the thread (all done automatically).

I was agonizing over these two machines - did I mention I also have an old Kenmore Ultra Stitch in great condition? - and that I just got a coverstitch machine last month; I decided to buy a Brother NX 450 Q. If this machine sucks, please don't tell me, because I might do myself bodily harm. I ended up trading in my two machines for a new one. During my life altering decision, genius invited bruiser over to the other very expensive machine, and started showing him how to use it. Normally genius hates sewing.

I somehow got myself, the new machine and the kids in the car. Here's my dilemma: I don't want my husband to see yet ANOTHER new machine!! Luckily, he's not that mobile, with the crutches and all, and you can hear him coming from a mile away. I also bribed the kids into not spilling the beans (cookies work best). While hubby worked on some papers, I discreetly put the box in my sewing room, quickly unpacked and stuffed the bags, etc. back in the box. Now to get the box casually into the garage...

I'm not sure what I was thinking. I mean, hubby was a bit far away, engrossed in whatever he was doing, but he had an excellent view of what I was doing. I decided to back out of the room with the box facing away from hubby. As I backed out of the room, I tripped over a pair of genius' sandals, and fell on my ass. Nothing like trying to be inconspicuous. However, hubby didn't bat an eyelash.

Because I like to avoid bodily harm, I decided to just go ahead and take the stupid box to the garage, like a normal person. It went unnoticed. By hubby. But. Suddenly, genius noticed the machine, and desperately (I'm not kidding!!!) wanted to SEW. Then bruiser, because his role in life is to imitate genius, jumped on the needlework bandwagon. One hour and two brand new Thomas the Tank Engine stuffed animal holders later, I finally got to turn the machine off. Oh, and just to give you an idea of how clueless my wonderful hubby is: he hobbled in at least 2x during the marathon sewing session, commented on how I should let the kids do something else (???) and see if I could get my own work done. He even looked directly at the machine. Maybe it's all those painkillers he's taking for his tendon.

Anyway, I decided to keep hubby busy by asking him to fix one of the Cars computer games for genius. He did this very quickly, and genius jumped at the chance to play. And play.....finally, I told him we had to turn off the computer and he needed to eat something, like food.

He replied,"Mom, woudn't you like to finish up some more laundry?"

Surgery, again!?!?!?!?

This week has literally flown by - I've gotten very little done, yet everyone has clean underwear. I think I did the laundry while sleepwalking. Or tiny fairies did the housework last night.

I took bruiser to a surgeon on Thursday for a consultation. He's always had this little bump right below his chest, and every time I'd ask his doctors (we belong to a practice with different doctors) about it, they'd shrug, and say, oh - it's nothing! Then they would internally roll their eyes and think, sheesh, another overprotective mom.

Well, I took bruiser in to see one of the doctors two weeks ago for a nasty cough, and as an afterthought, showed this doctor (whom we only saw once before). She said, hmmmmmm, in the way only doctors can, and decided to send us to visit a ped surgeon as she thinks he has a small hernia (D.U.H.).

Two weeks later, we are at the surgeon's office, escorted into a room by a very nice medical assistant. She apologizes for the frigid air in the room, and starts examining bruiser, who had already hopped onto the exam table, spread himself out, and tucked his hands behind his head. He looked like he was ready for a massage. The truth is, my kids like to go to the doctor. I know this is weird. Partly to blame/thank is a very expensive otoscope (sp?) Gregg and I purchased a few years ago when the kids had a problem with ear wax and ear infections. My husband would check their ears and massage their ears a little to make the process more comfortable. So now when they go for check-ups, they lie down on the table and ask to have their ears checked.

The assistant checked bruiser's belly, found the bump, and asked if it hurt him. To my surprise, he said yes! The assistant scribbled all this info into his file, and told us THE DOCTOR would be in soon. She handed bruiser a Magnadoodle thingie, and he happily colored for the next 10 minutes. Soon THE DOCTOR came in, and exclaimed,"WOW, he's so mature!" Bruiser had remained in the same spot for the whole time we were waiting. I didn't know this made him mature, but what the hell!

TD examined bruiser again, who giggled every time TD touched him with his chilly fingers (I think it was -35 degrees in the room as my lips had a slight blue tinge) and confirmed the diagnosis of a hernia. He recommended minor surgery to repair it, assuring me that it was a day surgery and he'd be up and at em' the very next day! Ack. We could put the surgery off for a number of years, but it will be more painful as he grows. Oh, I hate the thought of them slicing his perfect little baby belly, but I don't want him to be in pain, so we talk about setting up a pre op appointment, and other details. Oh dear, I'm not ready for this, I can barely stand to drop him off at nursery school, and now this? So soon after I took my husband in for his Achilles repair?

Well, since things happen in 3's, as we know, I should now consider some kind of plastic surgery to round to round out the numbers. Just kidding.

At least I am getting a few "he's doing better" emails from my 5 yr old's kindergarten teacher.

The SPIDER did me in...

It's been an exhausting few days, but I signed up for this! Wheeee!

This weekend I decided to tackle the yard. Gregg insisted on buying a push mower for the small bits of grass we have to care for ... Since Gregg can only walk on crutches, and occasionally wow us with his one-legged impression of a "bunny", I set out on Saturday to mow the lawn. It's a good thing I shut the sliding door, otherwise genius and bruiser might have heard mommy talk like a sailor.

One thing about the mover: I'm pretty sure it was designed for someone who is at least 5'6". Hubby is 5'9", I'm 5'2". With almost no leverage, I had to hold the handle of the mower slightly over my head (or the bag falls off - that's where my sailor talk began) and take sprints across the lawn. A few times I hit a bump and nearly flew head over behind over the thing. By the time I was finished (over an hour for two embarassingly small grass plots), I was exhausted. However, since our landlady was concerned about the weeds killing off the 5 blades of grass in each section, I sprayed some kind of super lawn poison over the freshly cut lawn. Wouldn't ya know it - as soon as I started spraying, a wind came billowing by. Normally this would be refreshing, but now the wind spattered my legs with weed killer. I try not to think how my DNA is being altered.

After this excitement, I go inside and practically peel my skin off in the shower, trying to rid myself of the toxins. All these exertions (mind you - I work out 4/5 days a week for 1.5-2 hrs) make me sleepy, and I end up cuddling bruiser on the couch. We're both recovering from a virus that is being passed around all the schools (like a good rumor!) and we both have matching dark circles under our eyes. I'm trying to ask him if his tummy feels better, when my eyes slam shut.

I wake up to find bruiser has brought all his babies from his bedroom (loveys - he as a collection of 9, and yes, they must travel with us on trips - he counts them) and has draped them lovingly around my head. When he sees my eyes open, he tries to shove a pacifier in my mouth. Genius is waiting to pounce and assails me with,"Canwegotothepark?Now?Canwe?I'mhungry!Daddysaidwecan'thavecandycanwe?" Repeat. Endlessly. I did take them to the park, though (see entry below).

On Sunday, I tell myself I'll try to kill the weeds in the other parts of the yard. Instead, I forgot that genius has a homework assignment to collect things in nature. He's already collected a few, so I thought I'd go and pick some flowers from my yard for the assignment. I'm feeling pretty brave because I've got rubber gloves on. Thick ones. Gloves for maiming stubborn weeds. Plus, the bug guy was here a few days ago and claimed to have killed most of the spiders and black widows in our yard (although I doubt that).

I head to the one tree in our yard with flowers on it, and realize I've walked into a web. I am pretty sure it's not a black widow web. I know what you are thinking: How DO I know this?

Black widow webs are mostly at ground level, are very sticky and have lots of stuff stuck to them. Plus, for 90 bucks, I paid some guy to kill them, right? Anyhoo - this web is practically invisible, spans from the tree, to the cinderblock wall, and to the rocks in the garden. Might have been an orb weaver. Pretty spiders, but some of them are pretty freakin' big. And are nasty biters.

I proceed to pluck flowers off the tree, gather a few other items, and head inside to bag and label my goodies - because that's what moms do when they do their kid's homework. My right side is itchy, and for some reason I ignore this fact. Few minutes later it occurs to me that I've been bitten by something, and I spray an antiseptic/pain killing spray to my right hip/tush area, and proceed with large mounds of laundry. I'd skip the laundry, but I do like clean underwear.

I have to run some errands and take bruiser and genius with me. These short errands take a mere 2.5 hrs and, voila! we are back home. Then dinner, bath, and bedtime. I flop onto the couch to do a little embroidery and realize my hip is killing me. Usually this wouldn't alarm me, as I have a chronic tight iliac band on my right side, but my band isn't even an issue (a side benefit to spider bites?). I pull my pants down and see a few red marks. These red marks have cute little twin puncture marks on them. My tummy also hurts, but not in the viral kind of way, if you know what I mean.

Uh oh.

Ok, so this probably isn't a black widow's work, but my side hurts, and my leg hurts all the way down to my knee. I'm envisioning oxygen tents and amputations. Reality sets in and I realize if I'm not hyperventilating by now, and we have Epi pens for that, just so you know, that I'll probably be ok. I'm still sore, though, and try to milk sympathy out of my husband. I mean, I'm the only functional adult in the house at the moment, doing all the house/childcare, I just got bit my some slightly toxic spider, and oh yeah, I have PMS. He tells me I'm a wimp.

Today, I decide I'm going to take the day off. I do the dishes, and that's about it. Well, until hubby announces he wants to go out for lunch. I pack everyone in the car, find a restaurant open for business, and wheee! Here we are at the Range Cafe. Mmmmm. Genius orders his food, and then for the next 12 minutes and 49 seconds says,"Mom, I'm hungry, where's my food?" Bruiser invents some kind of game with his fingers. Gregg tells me some work story and I zone out.

After lunch, Gregg insists I drive him to work for a few hours, and suggests to the kids we go to the zoo, aquarium, science museum, and shop, all within the time he is at work. Riiiggghhhhht.

Instead, we head to Trader Joe's. We're going to look for Lulu, dammit. My homeboys and I meander up and down the aisles, each kid with a balloon, which they have me tie securely to the cart. Just in case. Halfway down the candy aisle, they SPOT LULU! Thank goodness! Now I can slip the chocolate bar they snuck into the cart back onto the shelf.

At the checkout counter, they announce that they found Lulu and pick a prize from the treasure chest. Bruiser immediately loses his and screams, and the checker immediately gives him another (excuse me, God, but this person should be sainted). We go home and unpack the goodies, and I hide the mommy chocolate. Then it's time to pick up daddy.

Then dinner, bath, and bedtime. I forget to eat dinner. I wish this translated into weight loss, but sadly, it doesn't.

I now sit before you , on my computer, contemplating what I will make for my sons' lunches. PBJ? Nuts? Cheese? A credit card?

Maybe I can bribe hubby to to it...

No big deal...

Since I have to do all the yardwork, cooking, cleaning, childcare, husbandcare, on-demand driving, errand runner jobs, I've been too busy to deal with day-to-day details. I told hubby that as soon as he's ambulatory, he gets to go back to helping. He thinks this is funny.

I'm too busy to play the caring and patient mommy for all the little things in my boy's life, so daddy has temporarily stepped in. Genius wanted to zip up his jacket by himself this evening, so daddy patiently showed him how. I listened to the tail-end of their discussion.

Daddy: And then you pull up the zipper....

Genuis: Like this? zzzzziiipppppp! (and he didn't catch any skin, thank GOD.)

Daddy: Very good! You did that all by yourself!

Genius (looking down) : Oh, it wasn't any big deal.

I still can't believe he said that.

Why Kids Need Supervision

I took genius and bruiser to the park today so they could ride their bikes. They've been begging me for days to take them, but it's been raining non-stop until today. The park is the only level area around us, so off we went with a tricycle and bike with training wheels.

When we get to the park, it's populated by a large gathering of families. Some of the kids are little brats and joke about whipping a basketball at my 5 yr old as he rides by. That is, until they see me.

Then, like clockwork, 5 minutes into riding their bikes, both kids ditch them under the covered eating area - populated by this group gathering. I just realize that the men from their group have migrated and moved to a table away from the women. While I am trying to put the bikes out of the way, I realize the women are praying, and think this might be a gathering of Mormons, maybe? Anyway, their praying gave me the chills, perhaps because this is a public park and now because they are praying I feel like I shouldn't make any noise!

My attention was diverted when genius asked if he could dig with some other kids in the sandy volleyball area. He has permission from one of the kids, he explains. I say yes, and run off to push bruiser on the swing.

After a few minutes (and bruiser announces,"No more swing!"), I decide to check on the digging project because it occurs to me none of the adults are supervising these kids. Sure enough, two of the older kids (ages range from 3 - 8 and there's about 10 kids) are using metal spikes with sharp points to "spear" the ground and dig in the sand. One of these kids nearly hits my son with a spear. I decide I should supervise and warn that the spikes aren't really toys and are dangerous yet compliment them on their project.

As I stand there, I overhear their conversations:

Older blond kid with spike: "Hey, you're fired (to a younger blond boy). You're a waterboy now, go get water."

Hispanic kid who is the owner/foreman of the project:"Hey, we need more help."

Older blond kid with spike: "I just fired a kid and hired another one."

My son is the new hire.

There's lots of talk about keeping the damp sand from collapsing around the water they've poured into their sand "channels."

I suggest to nobody in particular,"If you use dry sand from the playground, that will help the walls from crumbling."

My son pipes up,"My mom's SMART." I love my son.

Lots of talk about digging, and then my 3 yr old joins them, grabs an enormous stick and starts batting away at the walls of sand, and freaking out a 6 year old near him,"Ooooh, don't DO THAT! We're building!"

Hispanic foreman,"There's another dam! Someone get rid of it!"

Then, in the distance, a generic dad appears on the horizon. As he gets closer, it is clear he is the father of the Hispanic foreman because the little boy says,"We (he and his little brother) have to go."

Older spike boy,"I have all the tools, and if we have the tools, we can build it!"

Father to spike boy,"Your mom says you have a piano lesson this afternoon and you should go home." This is met with dreary sighs.

Hispanic foreman issues one last command before going home,"Keep digging guys! This (gesturing grandly to the digging area) is everything!"

I lure my kids away from the construction site by promising them a treat from Starbucks.

In trouble again!

Soooo, this morning was fun. In a nutshell: wake up Gregg, help him dress, get kids up, make lunches, realize littlest child is sick, pack older and younger kids in car, maneuver adult child into car with his 3000lb briefcase (I have no idea how he carries that around with his crutches), drop off 5yr old, take G to an atm, take G to work, and drive home.

You don't want to know about the rest of my day.

Surgery Day!!

Oh boy, today my husband, whom I'll fondly call,"Gregg", because, well, that's his name, had surgery. This is how my day went:

8:05am - rush 5 yr old out the door to kindergarten with one of daddy's ties for reassurance. Turns out he is "nervous" about daddy's condition.

8:15am - rush home to dress 3 yr old, bribe him into the car (NOOOOO mommmyyy, no SCHOOL!) with errands - flowers for poor daddy, breakfast for mommy - because after feeding the two kids and the invalid - I forgot about me - and then to "school". It's more like a nursery school/playdate thingie, but whatever. He's going today whether he wants to or not because I scheduled an exterminator today. WE have an eensy weensy ant problem.

9:30am - short workout at the gym ordered by husband because he thinks I'm getting a little wacko. I mean, there's no reason for me to be stressed, right?

10:20am - talking to friend outside of gym about her marital problems when I realize I have to get hubby to hospital for surgery.

10:45am - stuff hubby and bad leg in car and dash to hospital, ahem, while obeying ALL traffic laws.

11:15am - arrive at hospital and drive around looking for space.

11:27am - arrive in waiting room and wait to see hubby before surgery.

12:10pm - still waiting and being creeped out by weird disheveled hairy guy in corner who won't stop staring at me.

12:15pm - hanging out with hubby in pre-op, he's supposed to go in at 12:30pm.

12:25pm - nurse comes by and says the dr. is running behind. I remember the exterminator appointment and dash home - slightly disobeying traffic laws.

1:00pm - exterminator arrives 5 seconds before me, and we begin an assault on ants, black widows, and any other unfortunate bugger that crosses my path.

2:30pm - bug guy leaves and I realize I haven't eaten lunch.

2:31pm - lunch is a spoonful of peanut butter.

2:55pm - mad dash to pick up 5 yr old and at the same time make frantic calls to the pre op room to see if they have hubby's crutches (which I forgot to take home).

3:45pm - 5 yr old secured in car, dash to pick up 3 yr old who had to stay MUCH later than usual.

4:00pm - still at 3 yr old's school, as they give intimate details of his diaper blow-out. I mention ailing husband who we are supposed to pick up at 4pm, scoop up kids and fly to car.

4:11pm - at hospital, kids run to gift shop and insist on buying flowers for dad (I forgot I bought some earlier) and, of course, some candy.

4:15pm - cell phone rings as I walk up to hubby [hubby called to see where the &*(( we are!}.

4:23pm - can't find a freakin' medical assistant to wheel hubby to car.
4:45pm- hubby now in car and announces he has a craving for an out of the way bbq place - kids didn't forget that I promised them Happy Meals if they were good.

5:15pm- bbq place
5:34pm- Happy frickin' Meal
5:40pm- Walgreens to try to fill pain med prescription for hubby, but they are too incompetent.
5:45pm - Albertsons pharm where they fill script in 10 minutes - and chuckle over hubby's accident.

6:15pm - everyone at home and fed.

6:38pm - husband made comfy while kids take apart their rooms, toys and underpants everywhere.

6:39-7:15pm - mommy the slave cleans rooms.
7:16pm - kids ushered into bath immmediately.
7:21pm - 3 yr old in bed asleep.
9:07pm - 5yr old "I'm hungry" after being in bed over an hour.
9:08pm- 5 yr old fed crackers and then bed.

9:10pm - believe me, the day's not over yet...

Most recently...

Yesterday was a tough day for mini genius and his sidekick. We were all supposed to meet daddy at the gym for some swimming! All morning the two of them were in a contest to kill one another, I swear. I'm valiantly trying to fold laundry (so we would have clean bathing suits) that was trampled on 2,000,000 times yesterday morning, when I heard another battle brewing. I decide to let them work it out themselves...

Then there's a loud "thud". You know the kind I mean. Then a loud gulp of air (it doesn't matter how old a kid is, you know this cry means someone might be bleeding), followed by ear-splitting crying/wailing.

Of course, I dash into the other room (with a clean towel from the laundry to sop up any possible bloodspill) expecting the 3 yr old to have battle wounds. Guess what - there's my 5 yr old gulping like a fish and holding his hand over his mouth. The 3 yr old is hiding his head in his hands and laying on the floor - invisible.

Once genius lets me see behind his hand, I see a huge swollen lip and blood all over his teeth. His nose is bruised and he is on the verge of hysteria. I ask him what happened and he replies,"Bruiser pushed me in (gulp) to the (gulp) Teeeeee Veeeeee!" Wow.

Anyway, once I clean up genius, he calms down and can't remember why baby brother tried to remove some of his baby teeth for him, naturally.

Luckily, about 10 minutes after this happened, the doorbell rang:

I'm thinking, oh dammit, not those stupid religious pushers again, I'm going to tell them I'm a devil worshiper! So imagine my surprise when I open the door, and there's my DH - on one leg. Thank goodness he was with doctors. The other two doctors are holding him up, and say,"Don't worry, he tore his Achillie's (sp?) tendon, and we already called an Orthoped and he has an appointment tomorrow morning."

Um, ok. ???

Then the GYNE ran off to get crutches for my DH. I had call a neighbor to drive my DH's car into the garage (the ENT parked it behind my car) because I can't drive stick! DH has to have an MRI tomorrow to see what how badly he tore the tendon.

He provided the perfect distraction. Genius and bruiser spent the rest of the afternoon poking daddy's "bad" leg.

Inspired!

I almost never talk about my kids online - I'm paranoid about perverts and whatnot, but I was inspired by BECAUSE I SAID SO

Here are a few fun adventures I've had with my 3yr old and 5 yr old in the last year or so...

__________________________________________________________________
Let me preface this little story by saying last year I had to call the local fire department because my 3 yr old locked himself in his room and the lock jammed. Good times.

Anyway, my 3 & 5 yr old are home sick this week with a virus. My 5 yr old was feeling much better today and decided to play with a wooden playset with screws, wood pieces with holes, wheels, etc, to create vehicles, etc, which we bought him at a science museum. He asked me to build him a little car, which I did, and then went to make lunch. 5 minutes later he comes running up to me terrified,"Mommy my fingers are stuck!"

He'd put his fingers through the wooden holes on the wood pieces and they were indeed stuck. I tried soap, vaseline, lotion, to no avail. I tried snipping the wood with a pliers, but they were too small. With little fingers turning purple, I called 911. I got a message that my call did not go through. WHAT???

Anyway, I tried to put more soap on the wood, but his fingers were really jammed in there. I called 911 again and finally got through. The dispatcher said they'd send over the rescue fire dept.

My husband calls to see how we are, and I tell him I've just called 911, and why. He says,"Gee, I hope they don't charge us for that, can't you try to get them off his fingers while you're waiting?" I hung up on said husband.

Fire department arrives and tries ring cutter. It's too big and squeezes my son's finger really hard. They find giant pliers and cut their way through the wood until it splits and releases my son's fingers. As soon as my son's fingers are released, he looks at me with penetrating eyes and stage whispers,"Mom....don't tell anyone this happened."

As they are packing up to leave, one of them looks at me and says, "Weren't we here last year for a locked door?"

The joy of children. ;)

A few hours later I said to my 5 yr old,"we had quite an afternoon, hmm?"

His enthusiastic reply was,"Yeah mom, I love meeting new people!"
__________________________________________________________________
So, yesterday morning my son got up very early. He started a new camp this week, and he feels like a big boy. He asked me to help find a red marker for him, and some paper, so he can practice drawing hearts. No biggie. This activity kept him busy until we got ready to go.

Then, while driving, my son says,"Look, Mom, I drew a heart, does this look right?". Well. He'd drawn a heart all right. He drew - I <3 U - and a name in HUGE letters under it. Apparently it is the name of one of the female staff. Today, he got up really early, and was busy making pictures when I got up. We got ready as usual, and then he said he had to take his flower pictures to camp. I asked them if they were for a certain staff member, and he said yes. So, at camp drop-off I told his group leader my son has something for this gal. As soon as my son was out of the car, he ran over to this young woman to give her the pictures. She's a vivacious blonde. Oh my.
_________________________________________________________________
Last week my 5 yr old started Kindergarden. No big deal, all my friends said I might cry, etc., etc., whatever. He was a little scared, but happy and wanted me to stay in his classroom a little. I did not cry.

Well, people, that was last week. Today, on the way to school, he tells me he wants to stay after (there's an after care program). When I ask him why, he says, "well, there's games and COMPUTERS to play with in the play room." Ok, so I give him permission. I mean, the kid wants to STAY at school LONGER, not because he has to!

Then, we park the car, I get out his gear and walk him towards the school. He then announces that he wants to walk down the hallway by himself. I'm hoping I heard him wrong, but no, he slips on his backpack and starts walking away without giving me a kiss!!! This is a kid who ALWAYS needs at least 4-5 kisses and hugs from mom before separation. The TEACHER holding the door open had to call him back to kiss me. Sheesh.
___________________________________________________________________
The material is endless, I'm telling you.