Thoughts for the week...

*Husband + Gasoline + stroller = One very upset woman

*I would be okay with never doing another load of laundry again.

*Random strangers touching my baby's hands by reaching OVER the back of an adjoining booth is definitely not okay with me.

*Mitchell could live on macaroni and cheese, corndogs, fruit snacks and chocolate milk.

*I love cheesecake.

*Sad but true, I can get drunk off of one margarita these days.

*Teething sucks the big toe of life.

*Mosquitos love me.

*Even three year olds have guilt.

*My husband looks VERY cute with a clean shaven face and a fresh, shorter haircut. Le-rar-rar.

*My husband can't believe I don't nap during the week. Le-ha-ha!

*I love blackberries.

*It's freakin' hot outside.

*I'm not a fan of spiders.

*I'm capable of using swear words to tell my husband to stop teasing me DURING a Christian rock song that I love. Nice. Oh - and we skipped church. Way to go, me.

*You can FEEL as young as you want, but your body keeps on aging.

*I like my hair shorter.

*No matter how overweight I am, I will still love and crave ice cream until the day I die. I will also never fully enjoy working out.

*Fewer things in life are as cute as watching a 3 year old boy help his Daddy wash the car and mow the lawn. It's so obvious he wants to actually *be* his dad.

*My husband enjoys watching a seriously STUPID tv show. (No offense to anyone else who loves "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia".)

*Georgia is going to be quite the pistol. And she's almost crawling. Oh crap.

*I love washing underwear for Mitchell as opposed to buying and disposing of pullups. Way to go, big guy!!

*The minivan is not ugly when washed.

*The boneless buffalo chicken salad is much better at Bennigan's than at Chili's, just FYI.

*I am already in the midst of planning Mitchell's birthday party, thinking of Christmas gifts, and planning our anniversary trip in Feb.

*No one has yet stopped by to offer to clean my house for free.

*I love coffee. And coffee ice cream. (See? There's that ice cream thing again. It's an addiction, I'm afraid.)

Never thought of it that way...

My husband handed me an article -- I believe it was actually an essay -- yesterday.

Here's the article.

Excuse me? My kids don't make me happy?

Okay - you're right. Not ALL of the time. I mean, they DO. But not all of the time.

Why is that so hard to admit? I think it's because we're SUPPOSED to be happy with them all of the time in order to feel like a good parent. Is that what it is? Not sure.

Anyway -- I had just never thought of things like that before. Makes perfect sense though and I thought it was a great way to think about it. I mean, what person could you spend 24/7 with for weeks and months on end and NOT get driven a little crazy by? Anyone? I drive myself crazy sometimes -- it's only natural that my kids do at times.

Did I mention how much I love and adore them? :)

Last night at dinner we were talking about Mitchell's extreme meltdown at the Children's Museum yesterday. (Long story in itself -- not pretty -- worst behavior in about a year.) My hubby said "He's a good kid, he just has moments. We all do."

DING!! (That would be light bulb above my head going off.)

I said "Maybe that would help me to think of myself in the same light. I'm a good mom, I just have my moments -- we all do." I tend to be really hard on myself about things and this might be a good way to cut myself some slack.

*yawn*

Boring -- I'm bored and as a result, bored this morning...so lower your expectations, okay?

It's my birthday today -- I prefer to think of it as Saturday. With benefits.

Like cake -- I'm VERY excited about cake. The thing is - -I had one last night at my mom's but it was more the ice cream that got me. Goodness. My grandma's boyfriend (hee hee -- that still makes me giggle) brought the ice cream and if that's what it takes -- I'm about to have an 85 year old man do my wicked dessert shopping. If you've never had the Dove chocolate ice cream -- GET SOME. I was DYING it was so good. Ugh. (Did I mention that I'm trying to lose weight? Could it be because the only thing I'm excited about on my birthday is food? Hmmm.)

Anyway -- my mom insisted on making me a birthday dinner, which was so sweet since I know how tired she is. She took Mitchell to the grocery store with her and he was so freakin' adorable when they got back. I was downstairs working for her on the computer and he came bounding down the stairs and ran over to me. He said "Mommy, Mommy, I got you a surprise -- here it is!!" Hee hee. It was actually a giant card. I mean a card that literally folded out to be a poster-sized card. Too cute -- he was VERY excited because his grandma helped him write his name on there. He's very into spelling his name. It's quite cute -- but then again, he's my kid so I'm extremely biased.

Once we got done oohing and aaahing over the card, we moved onto the stuff upstairs. "Come see! Come see!" were my directions. So I came upstairs and he showed me the flowers that he picked out for me -- my mom said she didn't help at all. (He actually matched them color-wise.) Aand the cake -- oh my word -- the cake. I thought he was going to lose his mind!! It was one of those that was a little rectangle with like 8 servings in it. It was white frosting with little circle sprinkles and a big bouquet of plastic balloons. The PERFECT cake for Mommy if you are three years old -- and SCORE -- YOU get to keep the balloons. AND blow out the candles. AND stick your finger in the icing before it's served. AND after all that -- not finish your cake and ask for more ice cream instead. (Hee hee.) I told you -- that ice cream is KILLER.

While we're on the topic of food -- might I add that I always forget how much I LOVE this chicken my mom makes. It is by far -- my very favorite chicken dish of all time. It is AWESOME!!!! And guess what -- I've never made it. I have no idea why. I was eating it last night going "Why the heck don't I ever make this???" And I didn't have a good answer. Anyway -- we had that chicken, corn on the cob and fruit salad with grapes, cantalope, watermelon, raspberries, blueberries and my fave -- blackberries!! Talk about the perfect meal!!

Okay -- so I seriously love this chicken and I will now put the recipe here for you. Yes, I am THAT nerdy and yes, it is THAT good. Someone try it and tell me when you do -- I know you'll love it as much as I do. (FYI -- it's also really good cold for picnics.)

Yogurt Chicken
2 cups plain, fat free yogurt
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
4 teaspoons worstershire sauce
2 teaspoons celery salt
2 teaspoons paprika
1 clove garlic, pressed
2 teaspoons pepper
3 chicken breasts, split and skinned
3/4 cup seasoned bread crumbs
1/2 cup butter, melted (optional)

Combine yogurt, lemon juice, worstershire sauce, celery salt, paprika, garlic and pepper in a large, deep bowl. Add chicken pieces and coat well. Allow to marinate in the yogurt mixture overnight if possible, but for at least 30 min - 1 hour in the refrigerator, covered. When ready to cook, preheat oven to 350. Remove pieces of chicken from the sauce and roll in the crumbs. Arrange in a large baking dish that's been sprayed with cooking spray. Sprinkle with butter, if you're using it. (I've never done that but I bet it's GOOD.) Bake uncovered for 45 minutes or until done.

Now the good thing about this recipe is that it's good for you, so don't feel bad eating it. I think it was orginally made with sour cream, but my mom changed it to yogurt and it's sooo GOOD this way!!

Okay -- that's all I have for now. Off to eat some breakfast so we can get ready for a fun day at the museum while I have the chance -- Georgia is sacked out in the swing and Mitchell is watching his library video before we have to take it back. I might even read the paper!

Lifelong friends...

Lifelong friends are treasures. Everyone should have at least one. I'm talking about girlfriends, not just your spouse.

I happen to be lucky enough to have several lifelong friends. (By the way, I'm happy to report that over the years my list has grown, not shrunk. Shrank? Shrunk.)

These women know who they are and are gifts to me. I appreciate them more than I think they realize.

They cry with me when there's nothing else to do. They laugh with me when I'm dumber than previously thought possible. They lock my secrets up in their vaults and tell me I'm not the only one, though sometimes I highly suspect they are just being kind. They enjoy a good margarita and some fried food every once in awhile. They offer great advice and just shut up and listen when appropriate. They applaud my weight loss when I'm on a roll and help me eat chocolate desserts in times of crisis. They pretend my kids' poopy diapers really DON'T smell that bad. They endure shutterfly sharing of pics that seem endless at times, I think -- and even reply sometimes! In general, they keep me sane (well, that's a relative term, of course).

I have to go to the library now but I was just thinking about how much my friends mean to me and thought I'd share. The world is a nicer place because of my friends and I'm a lucky lady.

Never about what you think it is...

It happens a lot. You get into a discussion with someone, or a fight, or make an observation. Any of those -- and a lot of the time, the reasons behind them are not what you think.

Pretty much don't want to dive into detail here, but a couple of things happened on my weekend away with the family that demonstrated that exact point to me.

Speaking of our weekend away, it was wonderful. Chris, Mitchell, Georgia and I were like glue for three ENTIRE days. All day. All night. Every day was like that. I LOVED IT!!!

My mom felt very loved and appreciated, which was the whole point, so that was great. The boys all did fantastic and Georgia was a baby trooper as well. We asked an awful lot out of those little people -- flexibility mostly, and they all did great. There were some meltdowns, but they were few and far between and generally pretty mild. It was really nice to look back on the weekend and realize just what great kids we have.

Okay -- I'm tired and need to catch up on laundry and cleaning. I took most of the day today to finish up the book I was reading. Chris gave me the green light to have a lazy day and not feel guilty, but I do. I'll see if I can get a bathroom and the kitchen cleaned and the carpet vacuumed before he gets home. That would be nice -- I got a day to recover, he didn't. At all. But that's another story for another day.

Being a procrastinator sucks...

But that's what I am. Okay. Just had to say that.

I'd write more but I have about 5 loads of laundry to do and a grocery store run to make. Oh -- and it's 9 pm and we're leaving at 9:30. Whoops!!

Oh well.

Uh-oh...

It's starting. The monkey see -- monkey do business at my house.

Tonight, Mitchell was eating his dinner right next to Georgia's swing. He was chattering away to her and she was chattering right back. I was in the kitchen loading the dishwasher and making his lunch for school tomorrow, listening to him be goofy and her crack up but not really "watching".

So he says "Hey Mom (ouch - mommy is on the fade out), look! I taught her a trick." Okay -- she's not a DOG, but I am curious. So I go in there and he said "I taught her the silly shake your head trick."

Sure enough, he did.

He shakes his head and makes some goofy sound and she does the EXACT same thing back. They are both just giggling like crazy. I run to get the camera out of the car and make him do it again so I can get it on video. I get THE BEST video -- she did it exactly like he did -- the lighting was great, the sound was great -- I get back to the computer to email it to Chris at work.

Um, yeah. Picture of my feet walking to the computer and audio of me telling Mitchell how excited Daddy will be to get this video. As Mitchell would say "That's a big bummer, Mom(my)." I was so sad. I did get another video but it's only a half-hearted attempt on her part.

SO...cute! He was so excited and she just thought this was the best game she'd ever played. Actually, it might be, considering that she doesn't really play games yet. She does give high fives, but I think no one but Chris believes me because she will NEVER do it if I tell someone she does. She has that little "make Mommy look like a loon" thing down pat.

As I was watching them tonight, I thought about a lot of stuff:

*How cute are my kids??
*I love that they love each other so much.
*Mitchell is a certified GOOF.
*Georgia has one helluva mohawk happening right now.
*She is going to be his worst nightmare here pretty soon.
*Thank you, Lord, for choosing me to be their Mommy.
*I wish Chris was home.
*She is taking in sooooo much more than I realize. (I know she is but moments like that show it.)
*Mitchell is a GREAT big brother.
*He is doing the pee pee dance.

Then I made him go pee and the moment was over. My last thought on the subject remains the same...

Uh-oh!

Why is it...

That every time I feel like I've got everything under control -- two seconds later that is just a thought drifting away again??

I work my arse off to get this house clean -- two seconds later, there's nothing to show for it. The toilet's been peed on AGAIN, there is a huge pile of dirty laundry AGAIN, there is crap all over the floor AGAIN, etc. I know, I know -- that's what happens when people (namely a man and some children) actually live in a house and do things there. I get that -- it doesn't mean I have to like it.

I think what I'd like to do is that the next time I get my whole house clean, I will rope off each room, ship my family out for a few days, and sell tickets. Yes!! Come see the amazingly clean home -- it may never be this way again. I tell ya who would come -- people like ME. Women who work their butts off to get it that way WITHOUT a housekeeper or a nanny. Not that I'm bitter about those who do have those luxuries.

Okay, yes, I am. Very bitter. Extremely bitter. I want a housekeeper!! (Not a nanny though. Except maybe when I need to clean.) Are you seeing how those go together yet, by the way?

I guess maybe I'm just sick of feeling like a hamster on a wheel. Except instead of a hamster going around and around it's rubber gloves (latex free, please) and dirty socks. And Wiggles undies. And burp rags. And nasty toilet seats.

If I could make my own bumper sticker today, it would read "I'd rather be drunk in Hawaii."

**I needed to edit and add that Chris DOES help around here. He's more a part of the solution than the problem, but you know -- feeling sorry for myself and all that. Lumped him in. He'll live.

In my former life...

I went to a wedding this weekend...my cousin who is 28 got married and it was beautiful. He is so happy and the wedding was great. I had to leave before the party got going at the reception, but I know it was a blast. (I had already skipped one feeding with Georgia and my gals just couldn't take missing two.)

Anyway-- while I was there, it struck me just how YOUNG my cousin and his friends all seemed. I'm really only about 5 years older, but WOW -- it felt like a lot more than that. Most of his buddies were all the same age -- hardly any of them had children. I was just watching everyone going -- that was me - -4 and a half years ago. I was 28, no kids, getting married, the world at my feet. We could go where we wanted, when we wanted, with whom we wanted. We both worked but then it was just a free for all when work was over. Happy hour? No problem. Away for the weekend? Anywhere we wanted. Spontaneous bbq with friends? Why not.

These days it takes me forever to get out the door because I have to pack the double stroller, the diaper bag, my purse, snacks and drinks, the boppy, put both kids in their carseats, make sure we go potty first, etc. I also have to time out the feedings or pack stuff for bottles. If something "spontaneous" comes up, it's all about who can watch the kids or we bring them with and then we have bedtimes and feedings to deal with.

It's so funny how things change so instantaneously -- EVERYTHING changes. From the second you wake up till the second you go to bed, parenthood changes your life. It changes your heart, the way you view the world, the things you say and do, the things you watch, the food in your pantry and refrigerator, the decor of your house, the freakin' CAR you drive...everything. And for me -- I wouldn't change a thing. At all. Ever.

It's just funny -- it all changed in the blink of an eye and I KNOW it changed -- but it's like it doesn't slap ya in the face till I see other people doing different things. I just sat in my chair and thought how interesting it would be to see that same group of people in 5 more years and see how they'd changed.

Jibber jabber...

In other words -- little, piddly things. That's my topic.

By the way -- did anyone else see that "Boston Legal"? (The Jibber Jabber one -- there was this old judge who said it really funny, and oh...nevermind. If you didn't see it, trying to describe it here is a lost cause. Just know that Chris and I give each other the "jibber jabber" business quite a bit.)

So -- my ketchup bottle was almost empty in the door of my fridge and now there's ketchup schmutz (a word borrowed from my friend, Debbie) that's all sticky on the bottom of lots of bottles. Soaking them to get it off -- not high on my priority list until I go to use one and then I think again that I should get on that. I think I will this afternoon.

Tom & Jerry -- Mitchell's new fave for morning tv time. It really is quite funny, but there is a lot of swatting, hitting, bonking, chasing, etc. So far he hasn't attempted to conk anyone over the top of the head with a cast iron skillet (ala "The Jerry") so I think we're okay. :) He just giggles and giggles and LOVES when Tom growls at the beginning instead of the MGM lion.

(See -- this really IS jibber jabber.)

How in the world does a pimple turn into a sun blister?? Someone tell me. I had a pimple like right below my lip -- well, on my 3 mile walks (pat, pat, pat -- me patting myself on the back) this week -- I believe it got sunburned and now it's a big, very UGLY scab. What the heck??!!

There's a bottle of chocolate milk in the fridge and I'd like to drink the whole thing but I'm not gonna. (I did taste it though -- SOOOOOO good.)

I took my toenail polish off 3 days ago and keep forgetting to paint them again. They do not look very attractive at the moment.

I have to go now. :)

Figured it out...

So, I decided that the answer to why I felt the way I did about all of that (see the big minivan post below) has always been right in front of my face.

The reason I've never felt like "just a housewife" or "just a 33 year old minivan driving mom of two" is because my husband has NEVER, EVER treated me that way. When I was working full time, all he did was encourage and praise me for working so hard. When I told him my heart was broken and I was exhausted at the end of that year and that I wanted to be home again, all he did was love and support me and say that he'd do his best to make sure that's what happened since my place was clearly at home. When I had Georgia and Mitchell, he told me over and over again how proud he was of me and what an awesome job I did.

He tells me lovey, dovey, complimentary stuff all the time -- and I think he means it. :)

What I mean is -- that was really the first time I'd ever been made to feel that way. At home, I am MUCH more than just a housewife and I never have to worry about being made to feel that way here.

Why didn't I realize that sooner? Thanks, honey -- I love you.

**sorry for the BLATANT syrupy sweet, sickening level of mushy gushy love in this blog**

A very strange moment in time...

So here's the scene...

Chris and I are sitting in the car dealership in the late evening on a rainy Saturday. After much contemplation and sighing, we decide to just bite the bullet and officially buy the minivan we had just test driven. It's black, it's a year old, it only has 15,000 miles on it, it has a DVD player, it's comfortable, it is a great deal, I won't have to throw out my back hoisting 35 pound three year olds over to the 3rd row of an SUV anymore...what's not to love, right?

It's a MINIVAN, people!!!

I know, I know...they're great, they're practical, kids love them, moms love them, married couples who never plan to have children love them. I get it -- they are God's gift to the vehicle world -- but I never, EVER wanted one. I never, EVER thought I'd get one. That's why we got the Trailblazer with the 3rd row. Right there. In our garage. To love and cherish forever. The ANTI-minivan.

Yet, there we were, kissing it goodbye...two sad souls making a purchase we knew we *should* make, a good one for the family. We both like to call it taking one for the team. And by the way, I do recognize it's not like we were trading in our beloved Trailblazer for a horse-drawn carriage -- we get it, it's a great vehicle. We just both think that they're ugly. And very suburbia, mom jeans, white keds, carpooling (which I'm a part of now, too), soccer practice, terrycloth-visor-wearing ugly.

And now I own one. *gulp*

Okay, but back to my strange moment...

So, we're sitting at the table after telling our sales buddy that we would indeed like to purchase the van. Mini-van. (I think the word itself gives me heartburn.) Meanwhile my husband is in what appears to be ACTUAL pain because the little table where we're signing our lives away is right next to his dream car -- a Chrysler 300. He's sighing, he's oohing, he's ahhing, he's damn near crying at this point. He's drinking REALLY bad coffee (I tried it -- it was nasty) and I'm chomping on overly processed peanut butter crackers from the vending machine. I'm trying to console Chris and at the same time feeling the need to apologize. I did that all night--not sure why. Actually, I do. I told Chris that I felt like I was taking his puppy away. He assured me that it wasn't like that but that he LOVES our Trailblazer and I need to allow him to mourn appropriately. Sounds odd, but as I later discovered, I'd be grieving, too.

So anyway, our friend Cody has now pulled together all of the documents that we need to review and sign and joins us again at the little table. Asks us if we'd both like to be on the title. We say yes because...it's OUR van, right? Well, he says "Who's first?" Chris says "It's her van...put her first." I say "Is there a difference financially with this?" He says "Whoever's credit is better should be first, I guess." ANNNND with that tidbit of info...I pass the pen. So Chris fills his part out and then it's my turn. I happily put in my name, driver's license, address, birthdate (which I put 2006, btw -- idiot) and I get down to the "Employment" section. I kind of look at it and think hmmmm...so I ask my friend Cody what to do. I work private practice but so minimally it almost doesn't count, adding that I mostly stay home with the kids.

His answer? "Just put 'Housewife' and that will be fine. That's all the information we need."

HOUSEWIFE???? Just HOUSEWIFE???? That's ALL the info you need about me???? Ouch.

Okay -- so now I can be summed up in that one word? Let me tell you who I think of when I think "Housewife". I see Archie Bunker's wife. I see Mrs. Drabble from that stupid cartoon. I do not see me. I know I'm a stay at home mom, but for some reason I never considered myself a "housewife". Ick. No way.

Yet, there it is. In blue ink on a white page in my own handwriting staring up at me. All the 10 other boxes surrounding it left blank because that one word is all the information the need about me. They don't want to know anything else. That's enough. Just "housewife". On my minivan purchase application. How did this happen to me? How did I get here? Is this for real? I have a Master's Degree!! I have a BRAIN, for pete's sake! I live in a house, I am a wife -- but trust me, that is NOT all the information you need about me!! And for the record, even though I personally think it's the dumbest thing ever and I'd rather be a "housewife"...I do now officially understand what drove some poor, sad soul to coin the phrase "Domestic Engineer". As much as I think it's just a ridiculous term -- to the person who thought that little gem up, I feel yer pain sister.

For one minute, I thought "Screw that!" and actually considered putting "Speech-Language Pathologist" on there. Helllooo--don't I look so smart? I'm an SLP, not a "housewife"! I'm SOMEBODY. I'm useful. I'm ME!!!

Then I remembered how hungry I was and that I wanted to gnaw my own arm off at that point. Putting SLP meant taking time to list details of my measly income.

Okay..."Housewife" it is! *sigh and scribble*

Cody left to go process our information and I looked at Chris and was like "Oh my Lord, I'm a freakin' 33 year old HOUSEWIFE with a freakin' MINIVAN!!" He's like "Uhhhh, YEAH...that just now hit you?" Uhhhhh....YEAH, it did, as a matter of fact.

I don't know why it was so weird, but it definitely was. Worse than my ten year reunion. Worse than finding a few grey hairs this year. Worse than digging my fat pants out after having Georgia to find that even THOSE are tight. I think for the first time in a long time I felt old and sort of like...I don't know...helpless. Like my mission in life now is to be listed on my husband's credit so that I can commandeer the family around in my little minivan, dispensing juice boxes and baggies of goldfish crackers while listening to "This Old Man" for the 700th time in a week. Seriously -- that's how I felt. Kind of crushed by reality, but a double edged sword because it's the reality I wanted, chose and would NEVER take back in a million years or for all of the money in the world. It was just really a bizarre feeling. I think that in addition to understanding the Domestic Engineers of the world, I'm also beginning to understand what drives 50 year old men to buy red convertible sports cars. (But not the cheating or divorces that start and end with affairs with 20 year old blonde bombshells -- that's not on my "I get it now" list. Nuh uh. Still icky.)

Okay -- so back to the van. I like the van. It was my idea, I wanted it for convenience, it makes sense -- but it's giving me a complex.

I'll get over it, I will love it I'm sure (as I'm told by the minivan cult). I just today -- feel kind of old and like I'm 98% mom/housewife and 2% Tara. Does that make any sense?

Anyway -- I told Chris that it was sort of a key life moment for me right there. Like when people sit around talking about things they remember from their lives and different ages/stages, that will be one I will definitely remember. I don't think I'll ever forget that feeling.

I need to get my hair done -- that always makes me feel young and energetic again. I'll make an appointment tomorrow.

And drive there...in my new minivan.

Priorities...

Okay, so what decides the order in which you prioritize your "to-do" list? For me - -it depends on the day. Days like today - it's hard to say.

The only thing I really wanted to do was go for a walk so my fatt bootocks could get some exercise. I also am wanting to finish this book I'm reading. There's also laundry to put away, a load to fold and two more to do. Unload the dishwasher, load it again. Factor in reading, playing trains, and the rest of the yadda yaddas that come with my two kiddos and there ya are. Oh, and going to see Grandma at the hospital. Oh, and a shower.

So -- here's what I decided.
First I put away the two loads I folded last night.
Got everyone dressed and fed.
Read about 15 pages of my book while I nursed G. (See - multitasking-- I'm a woman.)
Went for a walk and to the park.
Came home and made lunch.
Read some more while I nursed Georgia.
Computer stole my attention.

Now -- I've just taken the load out of the dryer, put the one from the washer in the dryer and added another load. I'm about ready to take a shower because...

THEY'RE BOTH SLEEPING AT THE SAME TIME!!!! Y EEEEE HAAWWWWW.

I can't really explain how exciting that last tidbit of info is - -it NEVER happens. Okay, so this was the most boring blog ever. Of all times. And so is my day.

I can't wait until my husband comes home. Honey -if you're reading this today, GAME ON, BABY!! :)

Always want more...

Isn't that true? Don't we?

I think my new personal mantra needs to be APPRECIATE WHAT YOU HAVE, DUMMY.

Okay -- short blog, but do ya get where my mental state is? Ugh. Okay -- my own butt kicking is done now. I'll be back tomorrow.

Ick.

Ick for Mitchell. Ick for me.

He threw up 2 nights ago in his sleep. The scary part is he didn't wake up. That really freaks me out because I know that is a VERY dangerous thing to do. I remember a story about the same thing happening to me when I was little.

He came downstairs to say hi to me in the morning and I noticed he smelled pretty funky so I said "Did you poop?" He said "No." Then I saw his sleeve and it had puke on it. Uh-oh. I said "Honey, did you throw up last night?" He said "Ummmm...yeah. It's in my bed. I'm sorry, Mommy! I didn't mean to." :( Poor guy -- he thought he'd be in trouble. I can just picture him waking up and looking around going "Uhhhhooohhhh." I made sure he knew I wasn't mad, he wasn't in trouble, nothing at ALL in that direction but that I needed to get those sheets washed up and clean his room real good to get rid of the germs.

I go upstairs and OH MY WORD. It was EVERYWHERE!!! He has a twin bed with a sheet and a blanket, plus bed rails, about 8 stuffed animals, 3 pillows and a folded blanket at the foot of his bed. It was over ALL of it. I think that he mainly did two little piles and then basically rolled around in it all night. Yucko. The first thing I did was put him right in the tub - - I discovered that it was in his hair once I knew what was up. The funny thing is that it's caked in his hair but he was really worried about this one spot about the size of a thumbtack on his big toe and wanted to make sure I got that off first. LOL.

It took me 4 loads to get it all done -- plus about half an hour in the bathtub rinsing it all down the drain first. I kept having to take breathers to come out for some clean air. Not good. I made sure that I opened all of the windows, turned on the fan and Lysoled every square INCH of that room. Then I did the same thing to the bathtub and bathroom. Then I ran around the entire house and Lysoled the whole place.

The bad part was that Chris was golfing. The good thing was that Georgia had JUST fallen asleep so I didn't have to try and entertain her while I was doing everything and by the time I needed to switch out laundry and stuff, Chris was home. He also was able to stop at the store to get some pedialyte freezer pops -- the only thing Mitchell will ingest when he's like this.

Anyway -- he was acting completely normal, didn't feel warm, etc. I was letting him play his Arthur game on the computer and I was talking to my mom on the phone about my grandmother, who was in the hospital and not doing well. He came over and said "Mommy, I want to have you. I need you." (This is Mitchell code for something's up and I need a hug.) He had a very weird look on his face so I said to my mom that I needed to go right then and hung up. I said "Do you need to throw up again?" He said "No" and just hugged me. About 2 seconds (literally) later he coughs and I thought, Oh crap. So I put my hand over his mouth and sure enough he starts to vomit. I ran like the wind as much as someone with a bad knee carrying a 35 pound three year old with one hand can and made it to the bathroom before it started to come out of my hand. We got 95 percent of it in the toilet, thank goodness. He was freaked out, poor guy. Throwing up is SOOO awful. What a horrible feeling it is!!!

SO -- I got him cleaned up and changed again, and parked his bootie on the couch for the rest of the day. He got to watch more tv yesterday than he usually does all week. He ate that up, too!! He put himself down for a nap in the afternoon and when he woke up -- he was burning up. That next 1 1/2 hours was not fun -- he was a bear, wouldn't drink ANYTHING and fought me really hard on taking his motrin. About half an hour after we got it down him, things started to get better.

Of course, this is the 4th of July -- Chris' favorite holiday and we were really looking forward to a fun family day. Bummer. We WERE gonna go to the park, eat lunch at Chili's, watch the Space Shuttle take off, watch the World Cup game, bbq and go to the ampitheater in our neighborhood for a picnic and fireworks over the lake. We managed to do the Space Shuttle, soccer game and bbq. We discovered that we had a clear, unobstructed view of the fireworks show from our bedroom so we watched them all together on our bed. Well, everyone but Georgia who was sound asleep in her crib.

It worked out okay -- wicked storms that I know I wouldn't have sat in for 2 hours and we watched the different fireworks shows on TV. Mitchell was psyched because Elmo was on the PBS show, so it worked out okay.

Now we just hope that it was a short lived deal just for him. I think G was a touch warm and she's pooped more today than normal, but overall she seems fine. *knock on wood*

I just hate the sickies.