Reckless Abandon

The other day I gave T and Al a snack in a bowl for them to eat while I was driving to pre-school. It was an extremely pleasant day (70 degrees HA!) so we all had the windows down. On the way home I heard T say, "That's too bad. Too bad!" but I didn't think much of it. Not until I unloaded the car and T's bowl was missing. "T, did you throw your bowl out the window?"
T: "I drop it. That's too bad."

Oops.

It reminds me of the time when Seth was about the same age as T and we took him on a family trip to Hogle Zoo in Salt Lake. Seth chucked his brand new sandal into the orangutan pen and laughed maniacally as I looked on in despair.
I notified a zookeeper of the situation, and he came with a hooked pole device kept especially for such occasions. Once he arrived, however, the sandal was no longer within our sight. That is, until a giant orangutan lifted up one side of his massive rear end, pulled out the new sandal and began to chew on it as if it were the most delectable morsel he had ever had the joy of savoring.

"Well," the zookeeper said, "If you come back tomorrow morning, I might be able to get it for you then."

Ew.

The Best Week Ever in Pictures

I didn't have to (or get to) do the dishes all week long . . . they just sat there and moldered.
We had no less than 10 beefcake plumbers doing their best to make us comfortable. This window in the plaster is now home to a nice commercial grade dryer.
The cool water of our charming lagoon was always begging us to step right in. The same lagoon did its best to warp the baseboards.
The beefcake plumbers wanted to be sure we had enough light and fresh air, so they cut several little windows in the kid's bathroom.
And for good measure, they pulled in a demolition crew to help with the master bathroom and the ceiling in our bedroom.
Now I'm sure you'll not want to think about what it looks like under YOUR bathtub. Ours had two inches of standing water. Also, microbes, amoeba, bacteria, green, red and brown algae and at least four types of fungi. Darwin and Aristotle could have gotten together and had a plant kingdom party in there.
Our bathroom exited through the bedroom window.
These two dreamboats spent the day digging . . . .
and digging . . . (left side of the yard)
and digging . . . (right side of the yard) until all hope of clean carpets this spring were lost. I can picture the muddy footprints now . . .
When my neighbor asked what was happening to the lawn , I told him that we were making a maze to train the neighborhood children to run through. He thought I was joking.

On the bright side, my dishwasher and kitchen sink are finally functional (Insert Etta James singing At Last here), as are two out of three bathrooms. Now if I can just get this smell out of my nose . . .

Also on the bright side, I have never been so thankful to NOT own our house.

Wherein I Expound Upon the Many Virtues of Functional Indoor Plumbing

I was happy thinking that our plumbing woes were over. The dishes were getting done, bathtubs were speedily draining and toilets were merrily flushing. I was happy . . . until this morning when I stepped out of my bedroom and the carpet in the hall said "sploosh." Carpet should not say "sploosh."

I've used up all the towels in the house, and the plumber cannot come to plumb until tomorrow between 11:00 and 1:00. We all know that means he'll be here sometime before dinnertime. I'm going to the store later to buy paper plates, frozen pizza and other food items that don't require water for cooking or clean up. Maybe I'll invite the plumber to stay for supper, since he and I are getting to be good friends.

I want a new house. An AP story I read yesterday in the Oregonian (yes, I am one of the remaining five people in the nation who actually read a hard copy of the newspaper) informed me that were we to move to Detroit, I could buy one for as little as a dollar. I couldn't resist checking out some of the bargains online:

For $1
http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/3015-Monterey-St_Detroit_MI_48206_1105609311

For $49,900
http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/Detroit_MI_48224_1106835380

For $3,000
http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/12800-Terry-St_Detroit_MI_48227_1106576157

For $50,000
http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/278-Piper-Blvd_Detroit_MI_48215_1106940968

But the fact is, no matter where we live (never Detroit), we will probably still need a plumber . . . quite possibly one of the few recession-proof occupations.

The Song about Our Weekend

To the tune of Old MacDonald:

Sewer water in my sink,
Ew pee-yew, pee-yew,
Oh my gosh, it really stinks,
Ew pee-yew, pee-yew,

There's a dirty dish here,
and a sticky cup there,
With no dishwasher there are dishes every where,

Sewer water in my sink,
Ew pee-yew, pee-yew.


And the plumber is two hours late. Figures.

Update: Plumber Dan came. He was sufficiently covered, so I can't insert any quarter-slot jokes here.

Parent Letter to the Basketball Coach

Dear Coach,  Friday, February 6, 2009

I'm sorry my son was late to basketball practice. There is a very good excuse, and here it is.

You see, it all started last night when my daughter came down with the barfing flu. Yesterday it had seemed that nobody else was going to catch it (it had been four days), so I went through the house and shampooed all the carpets. This is a fact that is not entirely relevant to my son's tardiness, but as you will see, makes me seem all the more heroic at the conclusion of the story, so I'm mentioning it anyway.

As previously indicated, we had another case of the barfing flu in the house and (formerly) clean carpets. I spent a good part of the night cleaning up and providing comfort as mother's are apt to do. Since the kiddos and I were exhausted the next morning, I didn't do much after sending Seth (who was the originator of the barfing flu) to school. The action actually began after picking him up from the bus stop. While walking home with all the children in tow, one of my sweet little cherubs decided to pick a fight with the neighbor child.  After apologies were made and time outs were rendered, we went on to do homework and prepare for basketball.

Because we did not do anything active over the course of the day, T (my two year old) became rather restless.   The restlessness was displayed in an exuberant attempt to completely empty every drawer in the house.  He was quiet, so I let him.

Another child (I shall stop identifying children specifically here to deter any inclination you or the internets may have toward prejudice for troublemakers) decided that they were hungry.  Child asked for a sandwich, and I confirmed that child could make one, ONE, one sandwich.  This child commenced to prepare a seven course buffet that spread the length of my kitchen countertop.  Three sandwiches, two toasted english muffins, string cheese and an apple should have been enough, but the child needed orange juice too.  So the child poured juice.  Not in the cup.  All over the counter and freshly shampooed carpet.  All over the bills that I had just brought in from the mailbox.  All over the valentines that another child had only just finished signing and stickering. All over my husband's medical journal that he was supposed to use to prepare a presentation.  All over.  

I didn't yell.  I just calmly stated that it would be in the child's best interest to get a towel and begin wiping while I tried to salvage the papers.  Child ran to the guest bathroom and returned with a new white towel and got to work.  After mopping up, the sweet child returned the dripping towel to the rod in the bathroom for future use because, I quote, "It still had a few dry spots on it."

While said child was eating, I pulled out the carpet shampooer and went to work.  I instructed Seth that he should get dressed for basketball practice in shorts and a t-shirt.  I specifically stated that he should not, under any circumstances put on his uniform, as he had a game tomorrow morning and would not want to get it dirty.

Seth returned a few minutes later wearing the forbidden uniform and swearing up and down that he would not get it dirty.  In fact, he may possibly return it to me in better condition after practice (apparently jerseys can be seasoned).

I didn't have time to argue as I was occupied with wresting a blue crayon from the grip of a two year-old attempting to imitate Rembrandt on my sofa.

Then the wrestling began.  I told Seth that it probably wasn't the best idea to wrestle with children who had so recently had the barfing flu. Keeping the uniform clean entails keeping barf off of it.  "Don't worry mom," he said, "I'll be gentle."  

Apparently Alice didn't get the gentle memo, because she caught Seth's nose with her knee mid-body-slam.  I have never seen so much blood come out of somebody's nose in my life.  All over the freshly shampooed carpet.  All over the formerly clean uniform.  Bloody handprints on the walls, splats on the stairs and puddles in the bathroom.  His nose bled for so long I was starting to panic.  Mind you, Seth wasn't too diligent about pinching his nose and leaning his head back.  He insisted that it caused great tidal waves of blood to go coursing down the back of his throat.

 

I called Michael.  "Come home now!"  I demanded.  "I think your son's nose might be broken."

At this point I had written off basketball practice.  We were skipping it.  But once the nose finally stopped bleeding, Michael determined it wasn't broken and things were cleaned up a little bit, Michael figured it was in the best interest of the family to remove as many people possible from the situation for a little while.

So they showed up to basketball practice 20 minutes late.  Sorry.

Sincerely,

Mandy

Seth's mom

P.S.  All these events occurred between 4:00 and 6:00 pm.  Impressive huh?

Brain Vacation

When stuck inside with a sick child on a February day, it makes me feel happy to pull up Travelocity and plan a hypothetical trip to Hawaii.

Michael and I would stay here:

I'd lose five pounds and buy this:

So we could do this:

And drink this.
And we'd call home every evening for reports from our Mary Poppins nanny who would happily expound upon the miraculously angelic behavior of these guys:

And I'd completely forget that last night I had to catch someone else's vomit in my hands.  I'd not think about the fact that my carpet and upholstery will single-handedly improve ChemDry's rating on the stock exchange by at least four points. And I will be able to go more than 24 hours without saying the words barf, Goldfish crackers, diaper, sippy cup, play-doh, bath toys, basketball practice, dance lessons, homework, chicken nuggets, Elmo or princess. 

And after a few days I will probably realize how desperately I miss it all.

That's My Boy!

I've noticed this week that the bathroom has been a bit cleaner than usual, with fewer little-boy type puddles on the floor. I complimented Seth on his newly honed aiming skills and he said, "Oh yeah. Sometimes I miss, but now I clean it up myself so you don't have to. And then I hang the towel back up so you don't have to do that either!"

Ew ew ew.