AllisonWonder and the Great Mint Sauce Mishap

Great title for a kids’ book, eh?

Too bad it’s a description of my morning so far. It’s not quite 6:30 in the morning, and I’ve been up with Simon for over an hour. I’m not complaining; I was up with him three times the night before and got puked on twice, and so far nobody’s barfed down my arm, so I’m ahead on that count.

I’ve been semi-productive, too: I’ve made tea, had breakfast, and put the Fimo* things that I made last night in the oven. Also, I cleaned up mint sauce.

For anyone not familiar with mint sauce, it’s kind of a mint-flavoured water with teeny little bits of dark mint leaves floating in it… but tangier. Anyway, we had pot roast last night, and there was mint sauce involved. That was fine, but someone left a dish of it out on the counter overnight instead of dumping it in the Green bin and washing the bowl. Then I come along this morning, making Simon some “chonka miulk” (chocolate milk), and the chocolate-mixy-stuff falls out of the cupboard as I’m putting it back.

CRASH!

SPLASH!

Fortunately for the rest of the kitchen, my face took the worst of it. The bottle hit the bowl, the bowl flew in the air, spinning, and mint sauce went everywhere. Little black bits of minty stuff stuck to everything- walls, countertops, my face, glasses and shirt. You’d think the smell would be alright, but it really wasn’t; food products that taste good just don’t always make you smell the way you want to (surprisingly enough).

Sooooo I cleaned up the counters, the CD case and camera case that were on the counter, my glasses, my face, and my arms, and I changed my shirt. Then I took Simon his chocolate milk…

…which started leaking all over the place. So back to the kitchen I went with the cup of milk, and I tried to get the lid off. It was stuck. Leaky, but stuck. I decanted the milk into another cup, and in the process got chocolate milk all over the place. So then I cleaned that up.

It’s now 6:41 and I just got Simon back to bed (which means Ike will be waking up any second…). I’m going to try to get a little more sleep if I can.

How’s YOUR morning een? 😉

8:28 a.m.

Uuuuuuunnnngh.

How is it possible that it’s only 8:30 in the morning*? About an hour ago Dad said to me, “There’s car racing on TV at 8:00, if you think Simon would be interested.” I stared at him. I blinked a few times.

“You mean, like, 8:00 tonight?”

“No- this morning.”

I was shocked. Stunned (yeah, I know what “stunned” means in NL- both definitions apply here). Aghast. “You mean it’s not even 8:00 yet?! NOOOOOOO!”

It felt like it should’ve been about 10:00. I guess my first clue should’ve been that mom and dad were, in fact, still at home and not on their way to the first of mom’s 3 services for the day. My brain, she don’a work’a so good on’a no sleep. Friends, it’s going to be a looooong day.

Oh- as for the rest of last night: I eventually got to bed after Ike fell asleep on his own- stuck his pacifier in his own face and everything. How… odd. Not that there was anything normal about last night, of course. Simon slept until some unreasonably early hour this morning; Isaac and I were already up. Isaac, who still DOES NOT want a pacifier at night. If I give him one when he’s crying (instead of his beloved BOOOOOOB), he settles for a second, and then starts twitching… and kicking… and sucking harder. Then: WAAAAAAH! Mommy, you tricked me!

So yeah, I’m tired. The good news is that it is officially less than 5 weeks until I see AJ again! I miss him so much that sometimes it gives me a stomach ache. It’s been worse since I saw him in August, and I imagine it’s only going to get worse as we get closer to his graduation. It’s reminding me of what it was like to be a kid with Christmas coming, except that instead of baking cookies and putting out the Nativity scene, I’ll be starting to pack boxes and looking into address changes/ new health cards, etc. Whoopee.

*Note that I did not say “8:30 a.m. in the morning.” I kind of laugh when people do that.

Simon

It’s 1:25 a.m., and here I sit at the computer with a hungry baby stuck to me. Why am I up instead of in bed with him? Because Simon is a sick little boy. Right- the one who’s not currently sucking my will to live along with his milk is the reason I’m up. OK, it’s not that bad, but it IS late… or early…

Simon had a really bad night last night. I was up with him several times when he woke up crying, and he felt very warm. I couldn’t give him anything for fever because he’s had cold medicine for his runny nose and cough that already had Tylenol in it, so I just cuddled my little human furnace until he was ready to go back to bed each time.

Today (actually, it’s yesterday now) was a baaaad day for him. Feverish all morning, and then a pretty good nap, but he woke up still feeling icky. I wanted him to eat something (since he hadn’t all day), so we went to Wendy’s and I got him his “chinken an’ fwies,” which he LOVES- and he didn’t touch it. He dipped his finger in the ketchup a few times and licked it, but that’s it. He didn’t even want “donnun” (doughnut), another of his favourites.

He perked up a little this evening, after watching “Yellow Submarine” and not having any supper. He went to bed without any problems (which is more than I can say for Isaac!) and went to sleep. I was expecting a good night.

Then Isaac woke me up. He did not want a pacifier, thank you very much, he wanted BOOB. He had his snack and went back to his own bed without ever really waking up.

Then Simon was crying and calling me, so I got up. He wanted a cuddle and something to drink, so we sat on the couch while he had apple juice, and then he went back to bed. Then Isaac got me up two more times- he’s got gas, I think. Then Simon was crying again, and he was quite upset, so up I got. He wanted to “go couch, go couch!” so I scooped him up. Just after we got out of his bedroom, though…

BLAAAAARRRFFF!  *SPLAT!*

Up came most of his apple juice, all over the floor and all over me. Mom heard the SPLAT on the floor and came out to help me; she sat with Simon while I got him some gravol, cleaned up the mess and changed my shirt. Back to bed again.

    2:13 a.m.

Oops- he did it again. I was sitting here, typing what you just read, when he started crying. Unfortunately, this woke Isaac up, and he was looking around like, Whoa, it’s dark, man. I put him in his crib, anyway.

Back to Simon’s room. “What’s the matter, Sweetheart?”

BLARF!

Oh.

So I got him up again and knocked on mom and dad’s bedroom door; mom got Isaac and sat with both of the boys while I cleaned up Simon’s sheets and friends (only a few casualties: Tiegit, McQueen and Polar Bear) and while I folded SOMEONE’S laundry so I could move the other laundry into the dryer so I could put Simon’s stuff in the wash, and changed my shirt again. At, and least  I’m productive.

Mission almost accomplished: Simon is back in bed and asleep. The mess is cleaned up. The only thing is, Ike is still awake. He’s lying on my bed right now, watching the mobile adnd starting to get mad at me for leaving him there. He thinks he just had a lovely nap, and now it’s awake time.  

This is why we try not to waske Isaac up at night.  :/

This is Why I Don’t Read in Public

I’m reading “No Country for Old Men.” I haven’t seen the movie, though I’m going to after I finish the book.

It’s not what you’d call a funny book (possibly the understatement of the year), but I keep wanting to laugh when I picture the sociopathic killer in my mind. Why? Because most of the time, this is what comes to mind:

http://annenahm.com/?p=368

And really, how can you NOT laugh about Baby J* with that ‘do?

*If you’re not familiar with the adventures of Baby J, I suggest starting here and working your way forward- SO funny.

Book Report (Book Meme)

Stolen from pixiestick_cc, a livejournal pal…
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 56.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next seven sentences in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don’t dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.
6. Tag five other people to do the same. Anyone who wants to do it, do it 😉

 

The man looked at Chigurh’s eyes for the first time. Blue as lapis. At once glistening and totally opaque. Like wet stones. You need to call it, Chigurh said. I can’t call it for you. It wouldn’t be fair.

(No Country for Old Men- Cormac McCarthy )    

What The…?

This is one of the oddest stories I’ve read in a long time. Road rage leading to death… of the “rager”… in her own car. Would this be considered suicide?

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/article4804007.ece

Good Day, Bad Day

It’s amazing how your life can change in 24 hours, especially with little kids around. Yesterday at lunchtime we were on our way back from a successful trip to “Once Upon a Child,” where we found fall clothes for both boys, got a couple of cheap used toys, and just enjoyed some time out of the house. After lunch it was nap time, and I actually got to lie down for a while, even if there was this baby who wouldn’t sleep without being in bed with me (and waking me up every 10 minutes). The boys and I went to Ikea around 5:00, again just for the sake of getting out of the house… also to get Simon “Ott dog? Ott dog?” He likes Ott dogs.

I can’t believe I went to Ikea and only spent $20. I guess it helps that we’re not going to have a lot of vehicle space when we move in November, but I DID put a few things back that I picked up because we don’t have the money. I’m proud of myself, even if I’ll probably go back for that picture. And the message board. And Norah’s Christmas present.

What’s even more amazing is what a good boy Simon was. He was very patient about sitting in the buggy while we looked around the Marketplace, and he LOVED looking at the toys, the kids’ furniture, the fake bedrooms, etc. But not long after we got to that stuff, Ike pooped. Not a little, not-so-bad-smelling baby poop, either. This was a stench that wafted from his diaper and made my eyes water as it drew glances from nearby shoppers. It had to be changed ASAP… have you ever tried to remove a 3-year old from a wonderful new discovery he’s made? Tantrum city, even if you promise that you’ll bring him right back. That’s why I was so surprised when I explained the situation to Simon… and he came to the bathroom with me. And stayed in the stall with me while I changed Isaac’s diaper (even if he was busy checking out the diaper disposal unit-eeew). And waited while I washed my hands, which is rather awkward when you have a baby in one arm. It was almost like he actually listened to me, understood what I said, and decided to go to a place he didn’t want to be rather than making a scene about staying with the HIMMELSK, the NYFIKEN and the BARNSLIG KROKODIL. Craaaazy, man.

But, as if the universe is trying to prove some point about kids being kids, I have a cranky, irrational, screeching creature inhabiting my son’s body today. He was awake crying a few times last night, and I was up with him (though not for long) when dad got up for work at 5:00 this morning. I’ve tried to get him to go back to bed- no dice. He’d rather be miserable and cry over spilled Nutri-Grain “cookies,” thanks very much. Isaac, on the other hand… is a cranky, irrational, screeching creature. He had a rough night, too. The kid needs to start eating more actual food during the day so he’ll at least be satisfied with a pacifier at night (maybe). He’s caught Norah’s cold, possibly because she likes to stick his pacifier in her mouth and then leave it where he can get it; just a theory, there. He’s got a runny nose, and it’s making him miserable and restless. He also has gas. And he bonked his head.

Holy crap, there’s a “digger” in the back neighbour’s yard. Weird.

What was I saying? Oh- the boys. So yeah, where yesterday I had two nearly perfect angels, today I have, if not demons, at least some lower (higher?) form of Satan’s minions screaming in the living room.

OK, I have to go get Simon and show him this digger- his eyes might literally* pop out of his head. And really, who doesn’t want THAT to happen to her kid?

 

*Yes, I am aware of the meaning of the word “literally”- though I know it gets misused a lot. I’m joking. Literally.

Thought Of The Morning

Hormones… sounds like a loud hooker.

For in those dreams of death, what sleep may come?

A couple of nights ago, I dreamed I was dying. Again.

One of the weird things about these dreams is that I don’t know I’m dreaming. For some people that may be the normal state of things, but I’m frequently a lucid dreamer; even if I don’t consciously (sub-consciously?) think “this is a dream,” I know I can change things what are happening in the dream. Dreams where I die… not so much.

I’m trying to remember whether I wrote about the last one on my livejournal- that was actually the only other “dying” dream I can remember having, though I’ve had many where it seemed like it was going to happen. In that one, we were in a car accident; I was in the back seat with Simon and Norah (they were babies at the time), and everything was going in slow-motion: the truck pulling into the intersection in front of us, feeling myself being thrown forward, being aware of my face smashing into the seat-back in front of me, the fireball rolling over the car. Sounds scary, right? It wasn’t. Not in the least, actually. In the dream, when I knew I was going to die, all I did was pray. I told God I was just going to trust him, and I asked him to take care of the babies. I don’t remember anything after that… maybe that was the end of the dream.

I don’t remember what happened last night. I think it was something very weird and surreal (was that redundant?), and it ended up with me heading toward this circle of white dots. I realized that when I passed through that circle, I was going to be dead, and facing whatever lay beynd that. I was a little scared, mostly of not knowing exactly what lay across that boundary. I prayed again, this time just trying to prepare for whatever was coming.

What’s strange is what I didn’t think about. I wasn’t worrying about AJ or my kids, and what was going to happen to them after I was gone. When I’m awake, if I think about dying, that’s what I think about. I think about my little guys not having a mom, about how AJ still needs me, what they’d do without me… but not in the dream. I hope there does come a point when those worries fade away, when a person is really dying. I hope there’s a time when you know that what’s going to happen is going to happen, and you can let the past go, trusting that things will be ok. Or not… but it’s not something you’re a part of anymore.

I’m rambling, and most of that probably doesn’t make any sense. But these are the kind of dreams that stick with you for a long time, and they take a while to digest. All I know is that ever since I had that first dream, I haven’t been afraid of dying. I still worry about the people I’d be leaving behind, especially my boys (all three of them), but I don’t worry about myself. I’m scared of pain, but not what comes after.

I’ll spare everyone a re-hash of my theory on death, which is probably a load of nonsense anyway- I’ve never done it, myself. If you want to read my previous ramblings on the sunject, that’s all here.

I gotta go- there’s Ike crying. I’ll edit this later- forgive the mistakes.

Gilligan, Snickers, and the One-Eyed Trouser Snake

Now there’s a title for you!

Sometimes I get so busy that I forget to check my favourite web sites- especially the funny ones. I don’t think I’ve read Dad Gone Mad in the last 4 months, and man, have I been missing out on the FUN! Danny is hysterical, and if I can’t get this tea and spit off the computer screen, I’m gonna owe my dad a new computer.

About that title, though- check this entry out. It’s about his desire to become a copywriter for those viagra/ enlarger/ whatever ads that come into your spam folder*. The best part, though is the reader comments. He asked everyone to contribute a nickname for the penis (I just almost wrote “the male penis”… someone notify the department of redundancy department!). The list goes on FOREVER, and ranges from immature to creative to… well, disgusting. But it’s a good laugh if you need one (and you have the sense of humour of a 12 year old boy).

 

 

*HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Holy accidental euphemisms, Batman!

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