Friday, December 18, 2009

On A Different Note....

To spare my poor dad from more puke-related stories (oh, yes, there are more I could share-- from just this morning even!) I have decided to post some illness-free quotes instead. Rest assured that none of the following quotes are nausea inducing.

1. LM: (listing all his complaints about a classmate) "Also, she's an Uncle Bob storier!"
Me: "What does that mean?"
LM: "It means she tells Uncle Bob stories!"
Me: "And is that..........good?"
LM: "No!"

2. Brasileira: (during a conversation about Santa Claus and the like) "And then there's the Bunny of the East."
Me: "You mean the Easter Bunny?"
Brasileira: "Oh.... Yes."

3. LM: "You know kitties? They have more, like, smart brains than dogs."

4. Ruby Jane: "I'm doing Yoga with my butt!"
LM: "Ruby, that's not appopiate!" (Mispronunciation his.)

5. Brasileira: (upon learning that hubby and I had lined up some babysitting for our kiddos) "So, it's just the three of us tonight?"
(Ummmmm. Not quite what I had in mind....)

6. Me: (as I was preparing to hang our new curtains) "LM, get off the curtains please or you'll wrinkle them."
LM: "You got a good point there, Mom."

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Another Red Letter Day

Well, well, well.... No worries everyone! I am pleased to announce that the good Lord is continuing to shape my character in many wonderful ways.

Today, for instance, I got to spend the whole day playing nursemaid to my little boy. And let's just say that more vomit was involved. Like, a lot more. And unlike Ruby Jane (who got it over with in one fell swoop and then seemed none the worse for wear), LM wailed and writhed throughout the majority of his ordeal. Oh, and there was no hubby here to help this time. Dang.

So I washed soiled bedding, fetched cool drinks...and hot ones, rubbed his back and belly, administered medicine, cooed comforting words, held him as he cried and wiped snot and drool all over me, cleaned puke off of the bathroom floors (both), the living room carpet, the bed, his clothes, and yes-- even myself. I told him stories, started a movie, ran two much-needed baths for him, carried him outside for a bit of fresh air, set cool cloths on his forehead.... You know, just general mommy stuff-- no big deal-- goes with the territory.

But do you know what I got for my efforts? As I was holding him in the midst of his tears and pain, stroking his hair, LM cried, "I wish I had someone who could actually help me! Waaaaaaaaaa!"

What am I? Chopped liver? And then it hit me (um, here's the part where I will wax all spiritual for a moment): as much as I wanted LM to notice that I was helping him, all he could focus on was his immediate discomfort. I can only imagine I spurn God in the same way when experiencing less-than-pleasant circumstances myself. Wait-- I can do more than imagine, I have actual memories I could call up. 'Nuff said.

Now, we'll see how aware I am of that little lesson if I'm the one barfing tomorrow. Barf seems to erase much of my reasoning abilities.... But it is great for weight loss! (Hey, humor me, I'm trying to conduct a little preemptive optimism here.)

Tuesday, December 15, 2009


LM has obviously missed the point of the cup of Cheerios placed on the back of the toilet. Hubby's intent was to have a constant supply of flush-able objects available for LM to aim at while using the facilities. The idea was hatched after having discovered (numerous times) juvenile pee splatterings everywhere from the floor to the wall in our bathrooms. One word: disgusting!

Anyway, hubby took the time to show LM this great new idea (although Ruby was not there for the introductory lesson and therefore assumed we were simply making snacks available for those longer bathroom excursions), and we had great hope that this would be the solution to our messy problem. But I now know something must have been lost in translation, because just tonight I caught LM doing a curious thing....

I witnessed LM lifting the toilet lid (but not the seat), peeing whilst looking in my direction and talking animatedly, then tossing a few Cheerios into the toilet before flushing.

Hmmmmmm. This begs the question: what exactly does he think the Cheerios are for? Some sort of flushing agent? Who knows.... But me thinks that hubby will have to conduct another Cheerio tutorial soon.

Monday, December 14, 2009

This Is Just A Nightmare-- Right?

I thought we were past this phase with Ruby Jane.... You see, at some point in a child's life they grow beyond the phase of letting their puke fly out willy-nilly regardless of their current location and position, to the wonderful new phase of projecting their vomit into an appropriate receptacle-- say, the toilet or some such container. And I thought that we had already moved to the latter phase with Ruby Jane, but was actually proved wrong in this regard just last night.

Ruby walked into our bedroom at nearly midnight last night, and before she even uttered a word the smell of wretch hit me like a freight train. "I threw-up," she whimpered. Hubby, cognitive abilities not quite functioning at full-speed yet, replied, "what'd you do that for?" Hmmmm, I knew then that I needed to attempt to address this situation solo. But, as many of you already know-- regurgitated food and I do not get along so well. But I steeled myself as best I could and followed Ruby Jane downstairs to her room. After all, how bad could it be?

What I found there was akin to a barf-a-phobic's worst nightmare. Shall I describe it to you? First of all, it was bright pink. Barbie pink, in fact. And copious. With chunks and lumps and mystery pieces in it. It spread from her pillow, onto the bed itself and down the side (not missing any piece of bedding mind you, from her comforter to her dust ruffle) and finally pooling on the floor in a great big circle. I came, I saw, I ran away gagging. I needed back-up.

I called hubby down and he, like a war-hardened trooper, came immediately. He took one look at the puke and one look at me dry-heaving into my elbow and said, "ugh, please get out of here before you make me start gagging too." With pleasure! But I knew it would be frowned upon if I simply skipped back to bed scott-free (although the thought did cross my mind and was given serious consideration) so I took Ruby into the bathroom to see what kind of assistance I could be there. And, yikes.... She looked like a character in a horror movie. Pink vomit was matted in her hair, swiped across her sweet face, and spread down the front of her jammies Interview with a Vampire style. "This is disgusting," she said, a little too perkily for my liking. "You need to shower," was all I could say through clenched teeth, attempting not to breathe at all. She stripped down (a nasty job indeed) and commenced cleaning off in the shower-- giving me much unwanted commentary all the while. "Wow-- it's up my nose!" and such. In fact, she was quite chipper about the whole thing.

Meanwhile, hubby was stripping her bed, scrubbing the mattress and floor, and throwing soiled linens into the washing machine. My hero! How does he do it?? He's tried to teach me his method before by saying, "don't breathe through your nose, breathe through your mouth." But you know what? That is quite possibly the most disgusting thing I've ever tried. Suddenly you're not just smelling puke, you're tasting it. Forget it, hubby. But, hey, if it works for him....

After we got Ruby Jane cleaned up, dried off and in fresh pajamas, I took her upstairs to sleep on the couch in our bedroom. I lined it with a towel, placed a bucket strategically by her head and sent her off to dreamland. I then looked longingly at my own bed, but instead of climbing in I returned to Ruby's room, nose firmly pinched between my fingers, and asked hubby if there was anything else I could do for him. He said no, and mercifully sent me away. Again, my hero....

Ya know, morning came much too soon today. And upon waking, Ruby recalled the events of last night almost fondly-- finding the whole ordeal oddly novel and humorous. (Okay, okay-- she has her mother's sense of humor.) But me? Well, it would be far more amusing if I did not have a mountain of vomit-soaked bedding and clothing awaiting me in the laundry room. But, alas.... A mother's gotta do what a mother's gotta do.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

I Survived Another One!

Last night I had to (I mean, got to) attend Ruby Jane's Christmas music program. For those of you tempted to think that this is an enjoyable experience, let me set you straight. It is, in fact, the perfect kind of torture.

First of all there's the matter of expecting LM to sit through over an hour and a half of any activity that is not a Transformers cartoon marathon. Oh, and don't think I didn't bring things for him to do! I did! I brought Magnetix, paper and pens, a G.I. Joe knock-off figure, and snacks. But do you know what he found even more interesting than all those grand items? The little girl sitting behind us. He could not keep his eyes off her or his mouth quiet. I'm trying to believe that the family left so early due to the fact their baby nearly barfed in the middle of the program rather than the fact my son would not leave them alone. Because he just could not contain himself.

But more than just trying to reign my little guy in, there's the matter of the program itself. Call me heartless if you will, but I only found the Kindergarten performance entertaining. (Could'a watched them all night long, actually.) I mean, seeing 40 small children dressed to the nines in tiny sparkly dresses and mini vests and ties, all the while nearly screaming their songs out (because they were told to "project" their voices) and with hand motions to boot-- well, if that's not pure entertainment I don't know what is. And there's always at least one kiddo doing a bang-up job with their expressive interpretive dance moves. (Oh, little girl, I have fond memories of thee....)

But after the Kindergartners performed things tended to go downhill a bit. I'm sorry Ruby Jane-- but your class's recorder performance was barely survivable. Tweet, tweet, tweet, squeak! Tweet, tweet, squeak! Oh, mylanta.... But I clapped dutifully because Ruby was looking so very lovely in her holiday dress (which I had to pay her to wear, but it was worth every penny, believe me).

If I thought the recorders were horrendous, they were nothing compared to the beginning band students. I must have gleaned some sort of enjoyment out of their performance, however, because I found myself giggling uncontrollably at one point. It's those clarinet kids, I think. They're always the ones to mess things up. But, alas, clarinet is a popular instrument....

By the end of the program my butt was aching, my nerves were frayed, and my ears sorely in need of Chopin. But I smiled at Ruby Jane, told her she did wonderfully, and thanked my lucky stars there is one more whole year before I have to do it again.

Friday, December 4, 2009

100th Post!

I wish I'd remembered to jot down a few of the doozy quotes our exchange student has uttered over the past few weeks-- but alas, I have none to share. She and I did have a lovely conversation in Portuguese the other day, however.

It went a little something like this (translated):
Me: "Hi! That's hot! Window, dog, binder."
Her: "Green bean."
Me: "Yes. Brazilian. Thank you."
Her: "Vacation."
Not bad for a rookie, eh? At least it sounded impressive to those around us with no Portuguese language ability whatsoever-- which was the whole point of the conversation.

Anyway, moving on to the quotes I have prepared for your reading pleasure!

1. LM: "Feed me, Woman!"
(And, no, he didn't learn that one from his daddy. At least, I don't think so....)

2. LM: (singing the Transformers theme song) "Transformers, more that meets de eye! Transformers, robots in da skies! Transformers, win every million times!"

3. LM: (aiming his toy gun at Ruby's head)
Me: "Don't aim at her head."
LM: (aiming at Ruby's chest)
Me: "Don't aim at her heart, either."
LM: (running out of good places to aim) "Can I aim at her vagina?"
Me: (finally just taking the gun away) ""

4. The Bopper: (overwhelmed by the immensity of her clean-up task) "Mom, I'm just gonna ask Jesus to help me!"
Her Mother: (exasperated by how long it was taking The Bopper) "Yeah, Bopper, whatever. Try that."
The Bopper: (5 minutes later) "Mom, Jesus not comin'!"

5. LM: "Have you seen Voltron?" (action cartoon from the 80s-- one of hubby's favorites)
Friend: "No."
LM: "It has 5 tigers and is about Jesus."
(Hmmmmmmmm.... I'd like to know how he came up with that.)

6. LM: (after hearing me let a little tootaloo slip) "Hey, you tricked us-- you can fart!"
(Darn, I'm discovered!)

7. LM: (singing a favorite Latino Christmas tune-- see if you can figure out which one) "Elise muddy dust! Elise muddy dust! Elise muddy dust, phmms anhns eh fessd. Elise muddy dust! Elise muddy dust...!"