Monthly Archives: October 2009

Why Do We Do This Again?

2009-0830Yesterday, we took Evan and Dylan to the health department for their vaccinations. I’ve been through this before- so I insisted that Mike come along for the ride.

Side note: why is it that I always make a wrong turn when going to the health department? It’s not like I’ve never been there before- multiple times, and for a month earlier this year, I was there at least once a week. Never fails- I always take at least one wrong turn, and realize that I’m headed the wrong direction as I’m making that turn. I really shouldn’t be surprised, it took me 10 years to remember who to get to Mike’s grandmother’s house…

Anyway. Got to the health department, and it was a mad house. They were giving out H1N1 vaccines and regular flu shots and it was the third Wednesday of the month, which is, of course, Vaccination Wednesday (hence- why we were there). In the past, I’ve gone in just as soon as they opened, and been in and out and done in less than five minutes. So this time, I waited a little bit. Surely, they wouldn’t be that busy.

Yeah, silly me. Should have remembered that it’s not just an flu season, it’s the flu season from hell. We got there shortly after 9am, and it was packed. Packed. People and kids everywhere. Standing room only. We had to take a number, which we’ve never had to do before.

While we were sitting there waiting, I was watching the kids go in with happy smiles on their faces and walk out with red rimmed eyes and cheeks still wet with tears. I had to remind myself why we do this, why we make our kids get shots. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it’s scary. But the fact is without those shots, kids could get sick. Kids could get really sick. And a few seconds of pain and maybe a small bruise is so much better than watching a kid suffer from a flu that is killing people or a disease that could leave you paralyzed.

I’m getting off my soap box now, I promise.

We waited for our turn, and when they called us back, I breathed a sigh of relief, because we had managed to make it through the waiting process without terrfying the kids in the waiting room with tears and screaming. Yes, it was a real fear. Remember, I had been through this before.

So- we go back to get our shots. We decide that Dylan can go first. Mike sits down, puts Dyl on his lap. Dyl starts shaking. Then he starts screaming. And I do mean SCREAMING, straight out of a slasher flick screaming. Evan starts to run. I grabbed him, he’s pulling on me, I pick him up and hold him, and he squeezes me tighter and tighter and tighter. This was all in the span of a few seconds, and as soon as Dyl was finished, he stood up, with tears in his eyes and said…

‘That didn’t hurt.’

*Sigh* Evan, of course, didn’t hear that. Evan had to be peeled off me and handed to Mike. Evan screamed through the first shot, and then asked with tears running down his face if the second shot was going to hurt, because the first one didn’t. His second shot did hurt, and he’s still milking it for all it’s worth today. He can’t walk today, because his ARM hurts.

At least we’re done with shots for a little while.


Happy Fun Time Sing Along

2009-0916Dylan is my musical child. He loves his toy piano, he likes to sing (especially in the bath tub), and would be perfectly happy if he got nothing but musical instruments with Harry Potter toys for Christmas and birthdays (side rant here: why are there no Harry Potter toys?)

He is so enthusiastic about singing that he can get his brothers to sing along with him, even Cody, who doesn’t dare do anything that would make him look ‘uncool’. He managed to get both Evan and Cody to sing I Wear Short Shorts (from the Nair commercials) a few weeks back. Granted, he only sings the one line, but still.

The other day, the boys were in the dining room, singing. ‘I am an awesome God.’

Yes, ladies and gents, I have given birth to three Gods. (for the record, the correct lyric is Our God Is An Awesome God. It’s a Sunday School song that the boys like.) I find it oddly hilarious that they get that one wrong, but yet- they get I Wear Short Shorts right…


Don’t Mess With Karma

In August, right around the time that I started this little blog, while walking into my parents’ living room, I kicked the heavy thing that holds my parents’ DirectTV box and DVD collection and Wii things. I ended up breaking my right pinky toe, and limping around for a few weeks. The toe was swollen, and misshapen, and purple. It hurt like a mo fo, and I got plenty of gasps and oh-my-gosh-what-is-that-freaky-purple-blob-attached-to-your-foots.

But Mike scoffed. To him, it wasn’t broken. Sprained? Yes. But broken? No. Not broken, and therefore, not worthy of appropriate sympathetic looks and cuddles and as such, he did not wait on me hand and foot like he should have (because we all know that it’s all about me, people. all.about.me).

Last night, Mike calls me on his way home from work and he says ‘I broke my toe.’

Now, the appropriate sympathetic response to this is ‘omg! you poor thing! Can you walk? Here, put your foot up, let me grab you a Mike’s Hard Lemonade…’ My actual response?

‘It’s not broken.’

He told me that his first thought when it happened wasn’t ‘Fuck, that hurts’, but ‘Fuck, I’m not going to hear the end of this one.’ Because he’s right. It’s true. I broke my toe, he scoffed. He breaks his toe, and well- karma’s a bitch. Now, I’m not going to go off the deep end- I know that it hurts, and I know the pain he is in, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to baby him.

So far, this is the gift that keeps right on giving. This morning, we talked about how he’d have to file an incident report, because he can’t wear his dress shoes. He’s wearing his Cubs crocs. To work. With his shirt and tie and nice pants. Part of the incident report is a drug test.

So I got to spend some time this morning teasing him about his drug addictions (relax, he’s not on drugs). And laughing at him wearing crocs with his work clothes.

The lesson learned today? If your wife tells you that she has broken her toe, you should serve her breakfast, commiserate with her, and most definitely- don’t tell her that it’s not broken.

Because karma will come and bite you in the ass.


Where Did My Baby Go?

I’m sick. I feel like crud, would much rather crawl back into bed and sleep for forty-seven million years, but I can’t, because I have the faint beginnings of a headache and I know that if I go to sleep now, I’ll wake up with a migraine.

So.

candleYesterday was Evan’s 6th birthday.

This: 03-02has turned into this:

0065A six year old with crazy eyes.

He had a ball yesterday. He got some new games, a new Cubs jacket, and legos. He also got some clothes, but being a 6 year old boy, he didn’t really care for those. But the best present that he got?

dealA handheld Deal Or No Deal game. You see, Evan loves game shows. Last year, we would come home from preschool, have lunch, and then sit and watch Deal Or No Deal. He would then tell me all about the show, even though I just watched it with him. He still loves Deal Or No Deal, but now he’s in school when it’s on.

However- he has discovered the Price Is Right. A typical morning includes a 6 year old yelling ‘Nine! Nine!’ when they’re trying to guess the price of a car. I’m waiting for him to sit Daddy down and get prices on a wide variety of appliances, just so he could smirk at the TV and say ‘See? I towd you that fwidge cost $1799.’

jacketIn his new jacket, playing Deal Or No Deal.

05-02Just because it’s one of my favorite pictures, and I can’t believe that he’s actually SIX now.


Oh My..

Evan’s birthday is Saturday. We’re having a wienie roast, and I’m making spice cupcakes with cream cheese frosting.

Today, I had to go buy the stuff to make the cupcakes, and I saw what could possibly be my downfall.

via Pillsburybaking.com

via Pillsburybaking.com

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is cream cheese frosting in a can. I can see so many benefits to this product. Easy to use (no more spreading!), cute frosting jobs on cupcakes (no more spreading!), no need for a spoon when I want a taste (my hips are spreading just thinking about it!).

I didn’t buy it. I passed right by it and went with the regular container of cream cheese frosting, because at our expensive little grocery store, I couldn’t justify paying $4 for a can of frosting that would end up in my tummy rather than on cupcakes.

And no, Pillsbury is not paying me or giving me free cream cheese frosting in a can because of this post (although I have to admit that I would take it. Oh, I would definitely take it and then I’d eat it straight out of the can, forget the cupcakes).

There are just some things that I really can’t have at home. Ever. And today, I have three of them. Chips- I love chips, any flavor. I will eat entire bags of chips. Chips are not safe when I’m around. And sweet potato casserole. My mil introduced me to the beauty that if sweet potato casserole a couple years ago, and oh, it’s to die for. Love it. Mom introduced me to premade sweet potato casserole at Aldi’s. Not quite as good as mil’s, but still pretty darn good. And cream cheese frosting. I have two containers in my cabinet, and a large handwritten note that says ‘HANDS OFF.’

Sad that I wrote the note. Even sadder that I wrote the note FOR ME.

Evan got a birthday card from his great-great grandparents (side note: isn’t it awesome that he has great-great grandparents?). While Ev was opening the card, Dylan stood right there and said ‘There could be money or a credit card in there!’

Note to self: don’t let Dylan open cards around family. Also, teach Dylan that they’re called GIFT cards.


Who Does He Think I Am?

2009-0903Cody has had issues with picking the right sort of friends to be friends with. We’ve had kids who are disrespectful to everyone over the age of 10 (does.not.fly in this house), we’ve had kids who have threatened to steal his bike, we’ve had kids who know more swear words than a sailor, friends who consider themselves to be too old to hang out with a 9 year old, and so on. But he’s reacquainted himself with a little boy his own age, who I have absolutely no problem with.

This little boy just happens to be homeschooled. Nice kid, I applaud the parents who realize that their child might not blossom in a public school setting, and I’m really glad that they aren’t trying to convince me that my boys would be happier, at home, with me being their teacher. More power to you homeschoolers out there, but I’d fail miserably as a teacher.

Cody has now decided that he might want to be homeschooled. He told me why his friend was homeschooled (typical 9 year old boy reasoning, not really important and unless I hear it from mom and dad, not believable), and then gave me THE LOOK. You know the one. Half puppy dog and half ‘if you don’t do this for me, I’ll need years of therapy.’

I didn’t buy it, of course. I think that Cody, being 9 years old and therefore thinking he knows it all, believes that homeschooled children have tons of free time to do nothing but play, and since Mom is teacher/principal/school board all rolled into one, he would be able to blow off homework. Because, ya know, I’m such a push over for the puppy dog/if i need therapy, it’s all your fault look.


He’s Got Crazy Eyes!

2009-0911If you haven’t figured it out by now, Evan, my little pint sized pastor who likes to show off his loose and/or missing teeth, is a character. If the camera comes out, he’s right there, grinning that grin of his with his tongue stuck out through the gap left by his missing tooth, and a funny pose. Or, if he’s eating a flour tortilla, he bites a hole in it and peeks out at me.

This is why we have like this one from may 2008:

evanondogYeah, he’s riding a boxer statue bareback.

Or this one, taken shortly after he stopped screaming and started realizing that the pool is a fun place to be and he had so many floatation devices attached to his body that his hair need never get wet:

evaninpoolBut maybe you are thinking that this is perfectly normal kid behavior, and that he’s not really a character. Are you sure about that?

Really sure?

evanonporchStill sure? The boys were playing nicely outside, and I came out to get a couple pictures of them actually behaving and enjoying themselves. When I raised the camera, Evan was standing nicely. When I pushed the button to take the picture, he went from standing nicely to ‘omg, I’m so cute, I can get away with posing! Like this!’

In all those pictures, we don’t have Cheesy Smile or Crazy Eyes. Cody and Dylan both went through a Cheesy Smile phase, but Evan, he skipped it. He’s always had relatively nice smiles, even if he’s grinning at you with his tongue stuck out between the gap left by a missing tooth. That really is his real smile (before anyone argues that his smile is ‘cheesy’).

Oh no, Evan didn’t do Cheesy Smile. He does, however, do Crazy Eyes.

evan2009Case in point. We got the boys’ school pictures back yesterday. Dylan’s are fine, his hair is just a little messy, but that’s ok. Cody’s are fine. He smiled. A real, honest to goodness smile. Evan?

Crazy Eyes. And tongue through gap in teeth, but again. CRAZY EYES.

My 5 year old son, my baby boy, looks like someone you would back away from, slowly, because you don’t know what they are capable of or might do.

Beware my boy, he’s got the Crazy Eyes.