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At Least He Gave Me a Heads Up!

Last Saturday about half-way through a seven-hour family car trip, I reached over and bumped the air conditioning up a notch.

“I’m having trouble regulating my temperature today,” I remarked to my husband.

“Today?” He said incredulously. How about every day for the past thirty years?”

“Now, that is not true,” I retorted. “Usually I’m just cold. Today I’m hot and cold.”

He rolled his eyes.

“This is just a preview of how much fun we’re going to have while I’m going through menopause,” I joked.

“I’m not worried about that,” my darling husband shot back with a grin. “You’ll be all alone. The kids’ll be grown and I’ll have moved on by then.”

Well. At least he gave me a heads up so I can plan for the future.

And by “plan” I may or may not mean that for a guy whose wife gets double the life insurance if he kicks the bucket in an “accident”, he sure is awfully cocky!

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Watch Your Language

Last night before dinner, my family and I were sitting around in the living room just enjoying each other when Sophie asked for her favorite snack, goldfish crackers, which she just calls “fish”.

“Not right now, honey,” I said. “We’re going to have dinner in a few minutes.”

Sophie was not thrilled by my denial of her basic life needs and began sobbing her little heart out as if Dora the Explorer had just DIED or something. (Dude, I am like, the meanest mom EVER.)

Joshua, who didn’t hear the exchange, wondered what I had done to make her so forlorn.

“Why’s Sophie crying?” he asked.

“Because I wouldn’t let her have any F-I-S-H,” I explained, not wanting to say the word out loud and get her riled up again.

“You mean fish?” Joshua said innocently.

Sophie immediately began a new round of fussing and asking for more fish.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

“Uh-oh,” said my darling son in response to his sister’s fresh tears, “Looks like I shouldn’t have said the F-word!”

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House of Pain

Forgive me if this post sounds like jibberish. But do you recall two nights ago when my daughter puked chocolate ice cream all over her crib while I stood there in an Ambien-induced haze?

Well.

Last night my son projectile-vomited strawberries and hot dog ALL OVER ME while I sat there in the beginnings of my Ambien-induced haze. Seriously I had JUST taken it 15 minutes before he came into our room to tell me he was sick.

My poor baby boy.

Bobby commenced cleaning up the living room (which included vomit all over two count ’em TWO remote controls) while I jumped in the shower. My pajama pants, shirt, bra, and underwear were all soaked.

I took Joshua to bed with me after we were all cleaned up and he threw up again at 1. He got most of it in the toilet but this time I had to do a bit of carpet cleaning. Also after this I was in full-on Ambien drunkenness and could hardly walk, so I was forced to go get Bobby to take over Joshua duty. He and Joshua got in our bed while I went down the hall to sleep in Joshua’s bed.

Bobby woke me up at 6:30. Joshua had thrown up two more times. Then he did again about 8. After a quick mopping of the hardwood floor and a complete clothes change for him, he is dozing on the couch while I write this and Sophie plays computer – gotta keep her out of harm’s way.

All three of us are exhausted, poor Bobby is at work, and thanks to our kids this is our THIRD near-sleepless night in a row. We haven’t had a week this bad since Sophie was probably 15 months old. So we were pretty much caught by surprise! We thought we were cruising there for awhile…

Anyways. I am sure this makes no sense whatsoever. But I still have an Ambien hangover! Send coffee!

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