Sorry Kid, you picked "Out"

Really Gross

So, if you are at all squemish or have a weak stomach please read no further...

I did warn you...

My kiddos share a room and a bed. Sharing the bed was not necessarily my idea but they keep sharing the bed. We have full over full bunk beds. Plenty of room for one kid in each bed. There are many benefits to them sharing a bed however, there are some definite drawbacks.

One drawback is when one has an accident and I cannot change the sheets quick enough. Please see my first post in November for more on that subject.

I have just discovered another drawback...even more icky. My little one apparently caught a stomach bug and vomited twice in the bed. The one he shares with his brother.

Little one comes in to our room, dads side of bed, wanting to get in bed with us. Little one says, I'm wet. I somewhat hear this conversation but do not really pay attention as little one is talking to dad. Little did I realize that he is wet with vomit...so gross...

Dad removes pjs and tucks the little one in bed with us. I get a vauge icky vomit smell but again...barely register it.

Guess where my older son was still sleeping? In the bed with vomit...never even crossed my mind to remove my older child from the vomit bed.

Brazil

This is the national beverage of Brazil. It's called a Caipirinha (pronounced [kaj.pi.'ɾĩ.ɲɐ]). I got that pronunciation guide from Wikipedia. I think it's harder to read than the word itself. Anyway, doesn't it look tasty and refreshing? We hit our beloved neighborhood cantina, Mezcalito's, the other night with our friend Cindy. The girls were turning on the cute for their guest.

Before our meal we munched on chips with their wonderful homemade salsa (I like the green one especially) and had a few drinks. Jeremiah and Cindy enjoyed caipirinhas while I went for a beer. As we chatted and munched and sipped Sarah cozied up on Cindy's lap. Kate danced. She has the heart of a dancer, you know. Distracted by all the fun, no one can really say exactly how long Sarah sucked on the straw of Cindy's beverage before any one of the 3 adults noticed. We didn't notice any immediate effects, but I will remember this event when we start seeing the results of her standardized tests...

If ever I deserve points, it's now.

Last week, Will was getting ready for bed, or rather NOT getting ready for bed when he should have. I told him to go to the bathroom multiple times, and finally I went downstairs to avoid some serious mama-meltdown. Surreptitiously snarfing chocolate (the vice of choice in the Ginger bread house), I heard a loud SLAM then a whole lot of screaming from the upstairs bathroom. I ran up there and Will was screaming, crying, slapping his private parts.

Yes. You guessed it. The toilet seat fell on his you-know-what.

Full of the milk of human kindness, I said something along the lines of, "If you hadn't been fooling around and if you had gone to the bathroom when I first asked you that wouldn't have happened." Logic notwithstanding. Whatever. Obviously I hadn't consumed enough chocolate and was still thoroughly annoyed.

Well, two days later, he said, "My bottom [that's what we call everything--front and back] is all different colors." I looked and sure enough, the tip was colorfully bruised. Ow.

Hockey Stink

Hockey is a stinky sport. Anyone who has been to a hockey rink can confirm this - just getting near the rink can sometimes make your eyes water. The solution to hockey stink is simple (clean and air your gear after every use) but requires dedication - slack off even a little and your stuff will stink fast. Since I have a particularly sensitive nose, we are champions of the fight against hockey stink. Our gear is aired and/or washed after every use and, while this causes a LOT of hockey laundry, it's worth it for the stunned looks when people realize how NICE we smell on the ice (I always find this amusing - we smell like fabric softener).

In addition to the gear, we're rigorous about washing the people who play. If you don't shower at the rink, you shower immediately upon getting home. This was a little contentious at first since they're on the ice 4-6 times each week and the boys couldn't believe I was serious about wanting them to shower so often...but it's become habit and my boys are regularly clean.

Chris has been commenting that the kids need haircuts for a few days and as I was busy being horrified by their party hair at dinner with his parents tonight, I realized they haven't had practice since Monday (holiday break)...so they haven't had showers since Monday. I whispered this to Chris, who vehemently denied that it'd been five days since they approached soap but he had to retract his denial because every shower he could think of had happened in relation to hockey. We exchanged furtive looks and poured his parents more wine. I swear they will get showers tomorrow! I also swear that one (or both) of them will vigorously shake his head and say, "I don't need to shower - I didn't have hockey today!"

7 Years and still lying

Andrew had a stuffed Dalmatian that he was very attached to at age 3. He named it "Dalmatian", and took it everywhere! We even had to take it with us when we went to the Eire County Fair. The ECF is one of the largest fairs in the country (or so they claim) and is a hoot. We took the wagon instead of the stroller for Lucas (then age 18 months or so) thinking it would be easier to drag around (it wasn't). We tried to convince Andrew to leave Dalmatian in the car so he would be safe, but he just had to come along. At some point he got too heavy and took a seat in the wagon with Lucas. In the miles of walking and dragging Lucas took the liberty to ease his boredom and tossed Dalmatian out. We did not discover his absence until we got to the car. I was not going back in to try and find him. Andrew had yet to notice so we drove away. I knew where the stuffed animal had be purchased and planned to stop on our way home and buy a replacement, hoping Andrew would not notice and start screaming before then. When I got to the store, they had the right stuffed dogs, just no more Dalmatians. Shear desperation made me purchase the black lab instead. I climb back in the car, bag in hand and hear Andrew say, "Hey, where's Dalmatian?" "Here he is honey," quickly removing the tags and handing the black lab to him. "Hey, what happened to his spots?" "Um, he was in the sun so long his spots grew together!"
I am still surprised that even at age 10, he has yet to figure out what a whopping lie that was, is. He mentioned it at dinner Christmas Eve, my husband and I exchanged looks, but continued to let it slide. Oh, one day this will catch up with me.

Truth be told, kid, I feel the same way...

On the evening of the Winter Solstice we give the girls one combined gift that in some way represents Earth and all its wonderful goodies. This year we gave them this very cool globe, which I'm pleased to say they find fascinating. Usually it's a one-gift night, but this year we were lucky enough to have my siblings-in-law, Chris and Sonya (better known as Aunt So-So), with us. My brother Steve and sister-in-law Joy (better known as Aunt Jo Jo) joined us for dinner as well.

Because Chris and Sonya were only passing through we figured we would let the girls open their Christmas gifts from them while they were there to see Kate and Sarah's smiling faces. It was nearly Kid Bedtime by the time we managed to gather in front of the tree to watch the girls rip open their presents. To Kate's delight, she received her very own copy of Mulan. "Oh, let's go watch it right now!" she said. We told her, no, that it was bedtime but she could watch it the next evening. This was unacceptable to Kate. "Pleeeeeease, just a little bit of it?!?" We held firm that it was time to go upstairs (Sarah was already laying on her blanket on the floor while insisting she wasn't tired.) Still Kate begged. Finally Uncle Steve said "No Kate, we're not watching Mulan. We're all going to watch porn." flatly, dismissively. Kate began the full-on whine, almost cry, wailing "I don't wanna watch porn!" and I realized for at least the 100th time that having a bunch of brothers isn't nearly as corrupting as having a bunch of uncles. I can't wait until she tells her teacher her uncle makes her watch porn. I plan to have hot coffee and scones at the ready for the nice social worker...