Yay for summer in Arkansas!!

adventures in nostrilland

Today, I went to lunch. I drove through the bank and deposited my check, then drove through Subway and got lunch, and then drove through the library and dropped off some overdue books.

My point of telling you this is not to illustrate how lazy I am, but just to point out that I never left the confines of my auto, and that my cell phone was beside me the whole time.

I get back to the office and get a frantic call from my mother in law. She is at Colby's daycare... they called her because he had a "foreign object" shoved up his nose. The daycare and my MIL had been trying to call me for the whole lunch hour and my phone wasn't ringing. (sure enough, I had 8 missed calls though.)

I went and picked him up, and took him to the Children's Clinic. The nurse practitioner spent over an hour and a half digging bits of crayon and a rubber band out of his nose. It was almost laughable... everytime we thought it was the last piece, there would be another behind it. When the rubber band came out, I laughed and and said, "OOOH!!! Next I want a diamond necklace!!" The doctor really didn't find it as funny as I did... But it was almost like a magic trick... I at least expected a mile long chain of hankerchiefs to emerge from his nostril or something... but no. Just more crayons.

Colby was, needless to say, not amused with the procedure. In fact, he got so hysterical that he couldn't breathe and was gagging. She was trying to get (what we thought) was the last bit out and he jerked and she cut the inside of his nose. So THEN we had a massive nosebleed. (Which did not, sadly, flush out the crayon.) We decided that he was too upset to continue. So I went and took him to my office, where we locked the door, turned off the light, and laid in front of the fan. We were both sweating from the tension. After about an hour of rest, we went and picked up his sister, and went back to the clinic...

Another hour later, we had four more chunks of crayon. (Once they started coming out bloody, I stopped collecting. So the photo only illustrates PART of what he crammed up his nose.) There was still one piece left. We had two doctors and two nurses in there by that time, and they just could not get it. So the doctor finally said, "You are going to have to take him over to the ER and let them call in a ear, nose and throat specialist. It is just too far up in his sinus cavity."

Meanwhile, he is throwing the MOTHER of all fits, and threw himself forward in my arms. And then he sneezed. Out came the last (dear God, please let it really be the last) bit of crayon. I won't tell you what else came out, but I will say it was really, really gross.

So, thank goodness for throwing tantrums.

I am going to go drink now.

Oh look! It's Me:30

I wonder how parents do it when they have 3 kids, or God love 'em, 4 or more. (And I don't mean "do it"... who has time for that crap when you have kids?? Bed is for one thing. Sleeping.)

I don't get 5 minutes to myself during an average day. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my kids and wouldn't trade them for anything, (except maybe a house overlooking the ocean, with the waves pounding into my front yard, and warm sandy beaches... nah, I probably wouldn't even trade them for that. Probably.) but I would love to take a quiet bath, or lay down on the couch and watch something besides Blue's Clue's... (I tried that tonight with the ACM's and after 10 minutes, succumbed to the screaming chat of "KWWWOOO KWOOOO!! KWOOO KWOOOO!") or whatever.

I think this feeling of helplessness started about a week ago when Colby decided that sleep was not a necessity. He refuses to go to bed unless I go with him and even then, it is like trying to sleep with a monkey on crack. He never gets still... It is toss, turn, toss, toss, lay on top of mom, poke sister in the eye to see if she is asleep, sing the alphabet song ("a b c eoaeoaeoaeoaeoa......"), put head on mom's butt, lay down at the end of the bed, crawl under the covers and crawl back up to the head of the bed, lay on mom's head, poke sister again, go look out the window, lay back down, poke sister one more time for good measure, lay on mom, fall off the bed, cry cry cry, toss turn toss turn, lay on mom, sing "Hey, Hey" from Blues Big Musical Movie, cry when mom yells at him to "LAY DOWN AND BE STILL RIGHT NOW I AM NOT KIDDING" and then holds him tight to her where he can't move, buck, kick, try to toss.... This goes on for a MINIMUM of an hour every night.

I don't know what to do to change this routine. I never had to deal with this with Elizab... Marigold. I always just had to say, "It's bedtime!! Time for night-night!" and 9 times out of 10, she would go right to her bed and go to sleep. She is still that way. She knows how to tell time (on the digital microwave clock) and as long as it is after 9, as in 9:01 or 9:02 (or 8:31 and mom has secretly set up the microwave clock to 9:01) she will pretty much go to bed without argument. Of course, there are nights when she is watching something or playing on the computer that she will ask, "PLEASE mom, can I stay up just a little bit later??" and I can tell her that she can stay up until the clock says 9:07... and then she goes to bed without argument... most of the time.

So what do I do with this Crack Monkey??

My goofball daughter

Elizabeth asked me something today. It seems that she is suffering from an identity crisis. (God help me if she is this crazy at six, what is she going to be at 16???)

There are already 5 Elizabeth's at her school. So when she goes to first grade, she wants to change her name.

To Marigold. Marigold Adair. Actually, Marigold April Delaney Adair.

Elizabeth is so yesterday....

on the fast track to a life of crime

*Bad boys, Bad boys, Whatcha gunna do? whatcha gunna do when they come for you...*

This is one of those parenting things that secretly make you say, "YES!! Good job, baby girl!!" but at the same time, you feel massive parental guilt for feeling this way.

I think that the end of the school year blahs has hit my house. It is just too hard to keep up with all the paperwork and reading and crap that the schools send home. (I have actually been making Elizabeth read her Reading Counts! books in the car on the way home from school... its not like we are doing anything else anyway.) We also can't seem to drag our respective asses out of the bed in the morning. It has actually gotten really out of hand.

For Elizabeth to be at school on time, we MUST be in the car, buckled and ready, at 7:30. Without fail, even if we nearly accomplish this, Colby takes a dump in his diaper every morning at 7:29. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I have picked him up to buckle him in and then start cussing and run back to the house with him in tow.

In case you don't know this, you cannot take your kid to daycare with a load. You might as well send him in with a happy meal and a pack of cigarettes, because all the daycare people will talk about how you are so wrapped up in your own life that you let your kid walk around in turdpants.

So anyway, this is my life. Last week, Elizabeth was late THREE days running and got THREE pink slips for tardiness. Great. I understand doing this when your kid is 17, but 6? It's not like it is her fault that I am a lazy ass that spends too much time drinking coffee and checking my email before I wake her up in the morning.

So Wednesday, we are late... again. I tried to hurry them along at home with threats of how Elizabeth was not going to be an Artist/Doctor/Princess, because she will never get into college with all those pink slips on her record. It didn't work. I dropped her off at the doors 7 minutes after school started. I felt like crap.

Until I went to pick her up on Wednesday afternoon.

I asked her how her day was, and she replied, "It was GREAT!! And I didn't get a pink slip!!" and she was grinning from ear to ear.

"Didn't get a pink slip?? How did you NOT get a pink slip??"

"Well, see, I peeked around the corner and waited until all the office ladies weren't looking and then I RAN as fast as I could on my tippytoes past their door. And then I went to my class and everyone was playing and no one even knew I was late!!" She was SO proud of herself.

And I was pretty proud too... I mean, disappointed at her lack of... nah, I was proud.

sweat the small stuff... really.

After all, its the small stuff that add up to the big things that make your life miserable.

It drives Marty crazy that I get so annoyed by little things. He is such a laid-back-Jimmy-Buffet-Is-KING kind of guy. Nothing gets to him. I told him the other night that it really upsets me that nothing upsets him.

He proceeded to tell me that when your job consists of pulling people out of wrecks, out of fires, and out of other tragic happenings, your focus shifts. Once you see so many people of all ages with their lives altered or ended like the snap of a finger, you get to not really worry about how the lady at Wal-Mart was rude. Or how the one-hour-photos are never, ever ready in an hour. You just want to focus on the happy times, and enjoy every minute of life.

I understand what he is saying, but I think he is full of shit. I think that is just his way of getting out of doing the dishes.

I don't pull people out of wrecks. I don't fight fires. I don't test hoses or wear turnouts on 100 degree days. And I want people that are waiting on me to be just as courteous and helpful as I am to my customers. I want what I order at a restaurant to come just as I ordered it. I want the happy meals to come with a girl toy and a toddler toy, not two boy toys... (not that I ever order happy meals because that would be instilling bad eating habits in my children... ) *whistling innocently*

My car is acting up. The dash lights stay on (like the "ABS" light and the light that says "brake" and the light that says "Check Engine!!!") and Marty says that it is just a sensor... that kills me. That "CHECK ENGINE!!!!!!!!" light seems really important. It is red and everything. It is like getting a pregnancy test that comes back positive and you go to the doctor and he says, "Oh, that's just a test. You aren't really pregnant." Also, my speedometer just quit too.

So he tells me that he will order a new sensor. Ignore the lights, ignore the speedometer. (Just try not to speed.) Everything is fine.

Well, I am heading home from a girl's night out last night and I stop at the intersection and suddenly I can't steer. My brake is hard to push. But my car is still running. So I shut it off and wait about 10 seconds (and pretend I don't hear the jackass behind me honking, like I am doing this just to piss him off.) and then restart it and it works. I head on down the road, and get to the next intersection... the same thing happens. (And of course the JackAss starts honking again. Yes, this is entertaining for me. It is a thrill. I am waiting to see if you will pull a gun!!) Thankfully, it starts again, and I make it home.

So THEN, I am telling Marty what happened and he said, "That's impossible. It is just a sensor. And if you couldn't steer, there is no way your car was running. Because car lingo car lingo...." which turns to "blah blah blah I wonder if I should wear a skirt or pants today is he STILL talking?" in my head.

You are right honey. I have only been driving for 16 years, I am sure that I was mistaken on the fact that my car was still running. It was probably dead, but I didn't notice, because I was putting on makeup, eating cheetos, singing with Pink, paying my bills and talking on my cell... because that is what GIRLS do when they drive. I am so silly. I am not even sure if I was at a stop signy thing. I can't remember. OH! Maybe I was using my lefty stop-ey foot instead of my righty go-ey foot. I bet that was it. Silly old me. (*flip hair, push out breasts*) I just get so confused!!

I just want my damn car fixed.

Mother's Day

This was my first mother's day that my sweet daughter got my gift COMPLETELY by herself. I am so proud of her, and she was SO excited.

My mother gave her a box of junk jewelry to play with, that my mom bought at a yard sale. Inside that box were these fabulous earrings. When my little girl saw them, she knew that they would be perfect for her mom. And what is not to adore?? They are gold AND have pearls AND multicolored gemstones. They will go with everything from wedding dresses to jeans!!

The even better part is she wrapped them in GOLD LAME' fabric (seen under the earrings) from her dress up box. And she made me a card all by herself and wrote a quote from our favorite book on the outside of the card:

I love you forever
I'll like you for always
As long as I am living
My mommy you'll be.

Who needs TIVO (what I asked for and have not gotten) when you can get awesome gifts like this??

too sweet

Tonight, I was cleaning up the kitchen, and went to peek in at my babies, who were watching Blue's Clue's. They were laying on Colby's little toddler couch on the living room floor, and Colby was asleep. Elizabeth was rubbing his cheek, and when she saw me, she said, "Mom? When I am 26, I am going to marry Colby."

I smiled and said, "You are?"

And she said, "Yes. Is that ok?"

"Actually honey, it is against the law for you to marry your brother." (Yes, even in Arkansas.)

She sighed greatly, and then said, "Well, that's not fair. I just look at him and fall more in love with him every day."

Now, when I look in at the both of them, asleep curled together on the couch, all arms and legs, chubby and thin, elbows and knees, mouths agape, I feel the same way.


Sweet, precious babies.

shock and... shock

WWWAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!! Wahhh wah wah, wahhhhh waaaaaahhhh!! wah? WWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!! Booooohoooohooohhooooooo!!! Sob, soobbbb sob! sob, sob waahhh, booohooohoosobsob sob!!!

Wahhhhh! Sobbbb!!! Booohooo!! Wail, moan cry, sob.

Laaaaaaaaa Haciendaaaaaaaa

For the last six years, when we go shopping in Hot Springs, we eat at La Hacienda. And I am talking at least 98% of the time. They have been voted the #1 Mexican restaurant in Hot Springs for about the last 4 million years. However, it is one of those places that you are either obsessed with (me, Marty, my dad, my brother) or you abhor (my mom, my aunt Phyllis). And all the waiters know us by name. And know what we like. And they pat the kids on the head every time they walk by, because oddly enough, my kids are VERY well behaved in restaurants... well, in this one anyway.

It is NOT Tex-Mex, it is authentic mexican food, and their menu is seriously 10 pages long. How can you not like a place that gives you that many choices??

Except, for those that know me, I am not very adventurous when it comes to food. You would think that I was the rock climbing, sky diving, connoisseur of dining by looking at my waistline (and hipline, and breastline, and legline) but it is just not true. Red Lobster - always eat crablegs. Macaroni Grill - always Pasta Milano. Taco Bell? Mexican Pizza. Cracker Barrel? Meatloaf, hashbrown casserole, and pinto beans... you get the picture.

And at La Hacienda, it is the #6... chicken enchiladas with "special" green sauce. I have no idea what is in the green sauce, but it is YUM-MEEE. It has seeds, so I assume it has some sort of vegetable in it. Yummmmm....

So today, we go to Hot Springs in search of the Fucking Little People Fucking Garage, (as I have come to call it), and after combing the town, (no luck) Marty says, "You guys hungry?"

"YESSS!!" screams the chorus. Then he uttered the unthinkable.

"How bout we try something new today?"

silence. silence. silence.

Trying to control the tremor in my voice, and trying to be cheerful, easygoing wife, I say brightly, "Hmmmm... Like what, honeypie?"

"I don't know, just something different."

The kids are still staring up at us from the back, openmouthed. Ok, Elizabeth is openmouthed, Colby is really just sucking his thumb and watching traffic.

"Well, give me some suggestions. " I say.

"Jason's?" Marty asked.

"Um, don't they have, like, crawfish and stuff?" I say.

"EEEEWWWW!! I don't like crawfish!!" Elizabeth gags.

"Honey, they have stuff besides, that! Like steak and chicken and crablegs!!"

"If you want crablegs, lets just go to Red Lobster." I say.

"I don't want crablegs, I was just telling you that they have crablegs!" Marty replies tersely.

"But really, I only like Red Lobster's crablegs." I say.

silence. silence. silence.

"Soooo, I don't really want Jason's." I continue.

"Okkkkkaayyyyy. Fine. How about Cajun Broilers? Or Crazy Cajuns??"

"Can we just assume that I don't want anything to do with Cajuns or Crawdads??" I know that I am being a little unreasonable, but I know that I don't want something weird. Its been a hard day.

"Well, then how about Chili's?"

"No. We had bad service the last time we were there." Which was when it opened two years ago.

"Bennigans?"

"No. I am not really in the mood for that."

This goes on and on, until Elizabeth finally says exasperated, "WHY can't we just go to La Hacienda like we always do, daddy?"

"BECAUSE honey, that is the whole point! We ALWAYS go to La Hacienda! We need to eat something different every now and again." Marty is beyond frustrated at this point.

"BUT we LIKE La Hacienda!! Mom likes it and so does me and Misser Colby! And you dad!! You LIKE La Hacienda!!!"

Marty starts cussing quietly under his breath.

YYYYYYUUUMMMMMMMM!! Chicken enchiladas!!!!!

bad day

Phew.

I am glad today is almost over. It has been one of those shitty, nothing-not-one-thing-is-going-good kind of day. The kind of day where I just want to sit in my bedroom and cry.

It all started with the satellite this morning. We have Dish Network, because we live so far out in the sticks that the only cable we can get is 14 channels and is $40 a month. Well, my husband decided that we didn't need the line protection, because he knows how to fix lines. Last winter, as in 2004-2005 winter, the line screwed up to our bedroom tv. We have not had tv in the bedroom since. Now, the other line is messed up. He worked on it for about 35 seconds last week, and proclaimed it fixed.

Yes, it is fixed if all you want to watch is PBS. (Why is it that no matter where you live, you can get the PBS channels?? I mean, they are non-profit for crying out loud!! What kind of technology do they have that none of the other channels can touch???)

Well, we have a finely tuned routine around here. Which consists of two kids quietly eating breakfast and watching Blues Clues while I put on my make up and find clothes for everyone. So I had to put in a BC tape. Blue's Big Pajama Party. This was Elizabeth's favorite, and now it is Colby's. If I had to guess, I would say that I have watched it approximately 47 million times. I feel like jumping off a bridge.

Then I get to work, and have two emails that hurt my feelings. I know it was just me being oversensitive, but it really got to me.

I have been trying to find the Little People Ramps Around Garage for Colby's birthday. It is the only present we are getting for him and our walmart here in town doesn't have it. The thought of paying $14 for shipping made me want to vomit, so I decided I would just go to Little Rock this weekend and try to find it. Then everyone mentioned that with the gas prices, it would be cheaper to pay the $14 and suck it up. But now it is too late to order it and get it here in time for his party. I know he is only two and will not know the difference. But I will know the difference. So I sat at the computer looking at it on Amazon.com and Ebay and wanting to vomit. I just couldn't do it. I hate shipping. I HATE SHIPPING!!! At least if I spend $20 on gas, it will be something somewhat palpable.

Then, I go to the bank, and right as I am pulling out, I have a sneezing fit. Unfortunately, I didn't put my foot on the brake, and I ran up on the curb and hit the fricking pole marking the end of the lane. It scraped all down the side of my running board and really screwed up the paint. I am not saying anything to Marty. I will just act dumb when he finds it. Plus it is embarrassing because I used to work at that bank, so they all know me and now know that I am an idiot. Guess I will have to change banks now.

Colby had his two year well child visit today. The daycare forgot and he was still asleep when I got there. I had to change his diaper, and outfit and was late for his appointment.

Well, he is way behind in his speech and will have to meet with a speech pathologist. The best place in town only takes MEDICAID patients. Insurance patients have to go somewhere else. The only other place in town won't see him until he is three. So we are going to have to travel somewhere, possibly weekly.

Not only that, but he has an eye problem. We noticed that his left eye kind of wanders. I mentioned that to the doctor and she said she wondered about that because he (and she has a medical name for this, but I have no idea what it was) has an issue where the corners of his eyes are hooded. So he also has to have an opthamologist referral.

I had to go to walmart and get milk. I wasn't watching where I was going and ran into a display of cereal bars and knocked over half of them in the floor.

I hurry home to meet the bus, and sit at the window and see the bus drive on past. Then I am panicked. Did she forget she was supposed to ride the bus? Has she been sitting at school for 45 minutes? Was she kidnapped? Was she kidnapped? Was she kidnapped???

Thank God for cell phones, because the bus driver called as I was looking up the number for the school and said that she didn't know Elizabeth was on the bus and would bring her right back.

I have not even cooked supper. I am too tired. I think we will have popcorn and watch Blues Big Pajama party.

Happy 2nd Birthday to my wee boy...