"That's a damn shame. Folks throwing away a perfectly good white boy like that."

There was a smell.

It didn't smell like poop, but there was a smell. Some part of me knew, KNEW that if there was suddenly an unexplained smell, it likely had a horrible reason for being, and had come out of SG. But I ignored it, because *I* didn't want to be the one to find it and have to clean it up. I admit it, I actively pushed my husband in front of the septic truck on this one. I smelled it, and I remained on the couch.

"That doesn't smell right." This, eventually, from the kitchen/office, i.e., the other side of the house. I say that like our home is palatial, but really it has two sides downstairs, my side and his side - my side being the living room, and his being the kitchen/dining room area where his "office" is set up. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes.

"What the HELL!? Oh GOD! Uh...uh...he, uh - Oh god. WHERE is he?"

Okay fine, I'll get off of my butt - this sounds serious. I got up, turned around toward the hallway with the bathroom in it, and was rewarded with the sight of my son, standing in a puddle of diarrhea, boxer shorts on, poo on his hands, poo running down the wall where he was leaning, a look of terror on his little face. The terror was legit, because we've added in negative reinforcement (one smack on the bum when he doesn't go to the toilet) to the positive reinforcement (hershey's kisses when he gets it right, washes his hands, etc.) over the last 3 or 4 weeks, since he CAN do it, he's just NOT doing it. I'm sure he thought he was going to die, but diarrhea while potty training is TOTALLY extenuating circumstances.

Have I mentioned he was hiding behind the bathroom door? He had it open and was behind it, so Matt, standing in the kitchen couldn't see him. And I couldn't see the kitchen.

"Found him," and I shut the door. Oh dear god.

The stench was obviously poopish smelling at this point - how did I miss that before? And it was. *gag* There was a turd - a turd! - the size of my fist sitting in a puddle of poo on my kitchen floor, some of it on the rug (thankfully washable). There were footprints if you looked closely at the brown "slate" linoleum floor, footprints from the egregiously incorrect deposit, down the hall to where he was leaning against the wall.

I busted up laughing, I couldn't help it. Matt at this point was giggling in horror ("It's the laughter that comes before the drinking."), standing in the kitchen rubbing his head. SG started to smile at me, so I frowned at him. His little face fell, and a snorting giggle escaped me, and he started to smile hopefully again while drawing with his foot in the puddle of poop he still stood in. I frowned at him.

"WHERE are you supposed to poop?"
"Indetoilet."
"Where DID you poop?"
"Indekitchin."
"Don't do that. Does your tummy hurt?"
"Um, No?"
"Poop in the toilet, okay?"
"Okay..."

Matt was, by this point working on cleaning it up, so I stood over SG, ready to grab him (I really preferred not to though) if he tried to make a break for it. Then we switched, and I grabbed a garbage bag, opened it, and held it out for Matt to put SG in, so he could carry him up to the shower without dripping on the way. This was apparently confirmation in SG's mind that he was REALLY in trouble. When Matt set him down in the tub (still in the garbage bag), he asked Matt - in rapidly mounting fear - if he was going into the trash truck.

Meanwhile, I'd pulled out my trusty Hoover Steam Vac, poured bleach into it (again) and went to work on the floor. I Tilex-ed (it was there, it was bleach, and it was in a spray bottle) the wall and door for several feet in all directions of the drips, and the sponge got chucked after that. The rug went back into the washer (again).

He spent the rest of the day in pull ups, in case his little belly wasn't done yet. He seems to be fine now. We've yet to recover.

Hellboy

• Sometime on Sunday SG noticed the scissors lying on CW's art table and wandered off with them to snip hole after hole in his brand new, bright green jersey sheets.
• At some OTHER point on Sunday SG took Matt's CPAP mask out of our room, into CW's, where he dismantled it and did bad things to it, necessitating a 90 search of the house (beginning around 9:45pm) for one particular piece (eventually found in CW's garbage), and a 20 minute procedure to extract an acrylic diamond cut bead from the end of the hose.
• 7:30pm put the kids to bed, discovering in the process, SG's trashed sheets. Both kids got in trouble.
  
• Monday morning Matt called FROM THE OFFICE around 7 am to tell my drugged self (when we'd despaired of finding the CPAP mask piece, I'd taken stuff to make sure I slept through the inevitable snoring and thrashing) that our router was down, and I needed to call Verizon about it. I woke up an hour later (when CW left for school, slamming the front door) on my face in bed with the phone still in my hand.
• Checked the router, called Verizon, went through the troubleshooting with the girl and discovered that the power supply had melted itself from the inside and there was a melted dent in it. So, no internet and no OnDemand until it got fixed.
• Monday and Tuesday SG spent a fair amount of time on Matt's computer, I did huge amounts of laundry - everything that can be washed (aside from CW's bedding) has been.
• SG has been locked out of our bathroom again. He lotioned the bathroom one morning while he was ostensibly watching a movie in our room. Then another day, when CW left the door unlocked (I just LOVE having an older one!), he flossed it with the entirety of Matt's box of floss, and I found things in the garbage that shouldn't have been, as well as things on the counter that previously were in the garbage. Curious little bastard. 8)
• Yesterday I was upstairs doing something, Matt caught SG with the fireplace doors open, Duraflame starting brick on the grate and climbing up to grab the fireplace matches (10" long wooden ones) from the mantle. He wanted a fire. 8) the matches are back up on top of the wall unit now.
  
  We're hoping this week's resurgence of HellBoy is temporary...

ER trips #348 and 349

I'm just glad this one wasn't on my watch.

I'd spent so much time out of the house, running errands and going to appointments that when the choice came up yesterday afternoon, I jumped at the chance to stay home by myself. I'd already taken CW to the Optometrist's office and spent 2 hours and over $200 (after insurance) with her, so I felt justified in NOT going to drop CW at a party (4-7pm), hit the library and take SG to the playground.

5:40pm Matt and SG walk back in, with SG waving a bloody paper towel. "Mom! Mom! Wooka myCHIN!" Stuck him up on the counter, mopped it with a wet paper towl, and decided it needed stitches. Well, at least I was already clean and dressed, right? I have this horrible fear that one day, I'll have to take someone to the ER and I won't have showered.

Got there, SG dances into the waiting room and triage area, and generally gives the impression that NOTHING is wrong with him, except perhaps in the head. ;) It being a nice Saturday afternoon here in the 'burbs, the ER was busy furnishing the general population with splints and arms slings - 3 people thusly treated were discharged while we waited to be taken back.

He was good in the room, although I did have to apologize to the nurses when he pressed the call button. Then it was decreed that yes, in fact, he needed a couple of stitches. Out came the papoose (too small) and the pillowcase to help restrain his arms at his side (seemed cruel and unusual, but made sense), and the sterile drapes (It's REALLY hard NOT to touch the tops of those things!) Then the screaming began. The pillowcase was slid up his arms behind him to keep them down at his sides, and then he was placed on the papoose and velcroed up - chest, hips and legs. When I say it like that it doesn't sound to bad, right? Ever tried to put a cat in a barrel of water? Yeah. I ended up laying on his knees once he managed to break the velcro's hold (I'm still sore today). Matt had one hand on his forehead, and another on this chest, and the male nurse was holding SG's head as still as he could.

The Nurse Practitioner put one of those tissue drapes over his face - the ones with a hole through which they actually do the work - and SG REALLY lost it. Spitting, blowing malicious snot, thrashing and screaming, "No, guys! No! Take it off!! Don't wantnymore!! Let me UP!" Words in the screaming made it so much worse than when it was just screaming. But horribly, we were all half laughing - not because we were enjoying it, but because he was SO, so HIM. Matt and I have seen this before (unfortunately), and will likely see it again, but it's always somewhat amusing when other people encounter him in an intense state like that. Shock and awe is really the best way to explain it.

Anyway, two stitches was all he needed, and as soon as we uncovered his face (his hair was soaked, his face dripping and red) he was mostly fine. The NP wanted to check the inside of his mouth to make sure there was no damage to the jaw and whatnot. *snicker* She tried a tongue depressor and a light, and asking him nicely. He clamped his mouth shut and had his lips SO tightly pressed together it looked like he had none. She told the nurse to pinch his nose shut and I laughed outright, "That doesn't work either, he'll just..." and his lips opened the TINIEST bit, "...breathe through his teeth. He does this at the pediatrician's office - we've never gotten him to open up."

She bowed her head and chuckled at this point, but conceded that since he was doing what he was doing, there obviously wasn't a problem with the jaw. So we let him up entirely, at which point he was dancing and giggling around the room again. The discharge nurse asked him if he was the one she heard screaming (we had an enclosed room, btw)? He grinned, delighted with himself and nodded, "Yes!"

........................................................................................

This morning one of the stitches was missing, so we went back. The triage nurse this morning was apparently also there last night. "You were here around 7?"
"Um, yeah. We were...?"
"I heard the screaming."

:)

He's fine, they declined to restitch given how it looked.

Sunshine, lollipops and razor blades.

So CW was supposed to get up at 6:30 this morning and be ready to walk out the door by 8am - exactly what happens on any given school day (which starts tomorrow). I even set her alarm for her last night.

She didn't get up until 7, nor was she even presentable at 8. I apparently slept through her VERY long shower in my bathroom, a shower in which she attempted to shave for the first time. Yeah. The following conversation took place in chunks across the next hour or so after she told me.

"Mom, I shaved a little in the shower this morning."
*blink* "Okay, did you cut yourself?"
"Nope! I really only did my arms though. Well, and some of my legs."
"Don't shave your arms."
"But they have some long dark hairs on them!"
"DON'T. Shave. Your. Arms. It's just wrong. You're not a freaky competitive swimmer - don't shave your arms."
(Detour into explaining "drag" in the water, competitive swim meets and one guy's particular pair of practice purple paisley pantyhose.)
"Oh, and don't ever share razors. It's not a big deal that you used mine, but I'd rather you used those disposable ones I got while we were out in Michigan."
"Well, I kind of didn't use your razor."
*blink, frown* "Well then, HOW exactly did you shave?"
"I used the little things (points out the replacement heads for my razor in the little plastic dispensing case), I just held it with my fingers."
"Oh. Okay...anyway, I didn't start shaving my legs until I was about 10, so let's not start until then? But if you want to start this, then we can start waxing now, and in a few years, you won't HAVE any hair to shave. Sound good?"
"Wait. Will it hurt?"
"A little for the first few times, but then you'll get used to it."
"Okay...can we do my arms too?"
"Yes I suppose we could wax your arms too, but really, you don't have much hair there anyway..."

Now, before you tell me that she's growing up (and yes in fact she is a size 9 in shoes, and is currently somewhere between a 6 and an 8 in pants/skirts) and before I know it SG will be shaving, I must relate that while he and I were in the shower last week I looked down and discovered him shaving his face with my razor. Obviously, I grabbed it away from him, but then discovered to my delight that at some point the blade had come off of the razor handle and been replaced by someone other than me. How do I know this? Because the blades were on upside down - a peculiarity of this style of razor. I'm now thankful that I always had problems with a normal style razor twirling around in my hand and cutting me, and to Mom's/my coworkers Rose and Brenda for putting one of those in my college going-away gift basket. :) I've stuck with that style ever since.

Nate's been in the kitchen playing on Matt's computer while we're out here watching, "The Men Who Stare at Goats." We heard him crinkling something, and the garbage can top open and close, so we called him in to ask what he was doing. We *think* we figured out what he did, and Matt told him to go back and play on the computer.

"Yuck. It's dirty."
"What's Dirty? What's Yucky!?"
"Nuffing..!" Came back in a sing song voice.
Matt, looking panicked ran out to check his beloved computer's cleanliness (it's fine).

He came back in here, "I'm not sure if it's better or worse that he talks now."

You wish your kids were this funny...

During dinner tonight we're sitting here watching Ninja Warrior, and she yells, "GO!" at the competitor who was on screen with a full body spasm. Something hit the TV screen with a pretty serious *CLINK* and skittered off to the other end of the room under the chairs. Everything in the room stopped, Maddie and I were staring at each other in shock - and I started laughing. Her glasses were no longer on her face. She'd somehow managed to catch them with her hand when she yelled, and threw them against the TV.

SG just spent 3 minutes (I watched the clock) "chasing his tail" on all fours. Then he got up, and ran two laps around the downstairs, only bouncing off of the coffee table right at the beginning. Little dude wasn't really dizzy at all. *shakes head*
*falls over dizzy*
He certainly doesn't have MY balance. Thank god. :)

Why did I have kids?

It's always a good day, as long as we don't ask ANYTHING of ANYONE. God forbid I ask my 9 year old to observe the rules and take a phone with her when she wanders out with a friend. Why in god's name would we, her parents, want to know where she was? And why should her 11 year old partner-in-crime tell his grandparents where he was going or take HIS phone?

N showed up just after I got home from running errands and we were just about done unloading the car. CW threw her shoes on and zipped out the door. They stayed within sight of our house for a while, then suddenly they weren't. I discovered that she had left her purse/phone in the closet. We waited probably half an hour before calling N's grandmother (Mama L - she lives across the street from us), and asking if the kids were there. Matt apparently terrified Mama L - she thought he was the police or the hospital - because they were looking for N, since THEY didn't know where he was either.

The kids showed up as soon as Matt walked out the door to go find them. CW's grounded now.

She walked up stairs, crying (oh evil parents, we!) and when she got to the top, she informed us that SG had poop on his foot. Little @&*%! had been in boxers for all of about 45 minutes (literally, right after CW left, I put him in boxers), before pooping in our bed. My sheets are in the wash now, and he's naked again.

The horrors of losing your old car.

We'd spent the day out at the lake, all of the kids were exhausted (SG passed out 10 minutes into the hour long drive back to my friend E 's house), and we put them all to bed by about 7pm - I think. E, her husband Mr. D and I were all sitting in the living room gabbing, drinking and relaxing after having eaten dinner. And then the world blew up.

Well not really, but still. CW showed up upstairs (we three were sleeping in the playroom in the basement) clutching a paper good to her nose, asking me if I could come downstairs for a minute.
E: Are you okay, CW!?
Mr. D: Is your nose bleeding?!
Me: (after going over to her) What's the matter? Did your brother clock you again?

No, none of those things. She was having a complete meltdown. Why? I'd left her old bedtime music playing (she hasn't listened to it in almost a year now) and Queen's, "Who wants to live forever?" had come on. She'd started thinking about how cool it would be to live forever, all of the things she could do, see, places she could go...but she wouldn't get to see us, because we'd be dead and gone, and she'd started crying about how much she'd miss us, and then started thinking about my car (the explorer) and how IT was gone (had been picked up for donation on Tuesday), and she'd never seeeee it again! And she'd never *hiccup* ev-ver get to ride in it agaaaaiiiin! And she just w-wanted to r-ride i-in it o-one m-m-more tiiiiime!!!

OMG. Whoever thought that kids have to have a PET to experience loss and mourn is full of crap. Me being Bad Mom, ended up laughing while I was hugging her and talking her out of the meltdown, but thankfully she was fine with that. I asked her if she'd like to talk to Daddy, and not surprisingly, she did - but she wanted to stay in the basement. So I had Matt call the house line, and gave him a heads up about the situation.

Meanwhile, upstairs on the second floor, E was dealing with her own offspring issues. B, her youngest was coughing so badly she threw up all over E. This of course made E a little jumpy when she heard CW sobbing and hiccuping downstairs - she was worried that she was throwing up too.

I ended up relaying what had happened to Mr. D while we were standing in the kitchen, waiting for E to come back downstairs (we could hear B screaming) from dealing with B. He looked almost panicked when I finished and said, "This is what I have to look forward to. Great."

I of course cackled, "Times TWO!!" at him as he escaped out the garage door for a drink and a smoke...poor guy certainly needed them... :)

So, this morning I got up and took a shower. WHAT!? Yeah, I'm clean today. :)

This was after laying in bed for a bit listening to CW have a hissy fit in her shower because she apparently forgot how to turn on the hot water. She eventually called Matt upstairs to help her, and I hear bits and pieces, "You didn't have the hot water on." "Which one is the hot water?" "Seriously? It's that one, did you forget?!"

He comes into the bathroom while I'm in the shower and we're giggling about it, and the fact that he had to save the offspring last night when she was digging her heels in (wrongly) and waving folded laundry at me in irritation, claiming that she hadn't folded her brother's shirt, she'd folded HER yellow shirt. She and I were yelling at each other and Matt yells in from the other room, "CW stop arguing. Apologize to your mother and go get ready for bed!" THEN while she was upstairs, she apparently lost her crap AGAIN, and was stamping around being angry that Daddy had told her to get a load of her laundry together. She was acting like it was OUR responsibility to do it, and she was so put upon, being asked to get a load together. Oh the drama. With Jazz Hands. While we're talking about this, and snickering in resignation, she shows up at our bathroom door, soaking wet, dancing and yelling that she's going to be late and Daddy hasn't signed her homework agenda yet!!! Matt pointed out that she had 20 minutes yet, and that SHE needed to get moving, not him, and to go get dressed dammit! More dancing and yelling ensued - where in god's name was her laundry?! She didn't have any underwear or bras!! In the dryer, CW. Go get it.

She left, he closed the door and stage whispered, "Stop it my hormones, CW!!" I nearly drowned myself because I was in the middle of rinsing my nose out (still in the shower) and gargling.

I got finished with my shower, got out, dried off, and was greeted at the door by the whole family, grinning with excitement. SG's bouncing up and down - as was His Hair, It was so excited - CW's grinning around her toothbrush, and Matt's holding SG's potty, which is full of pee. We've taken to putting his potty in his room at bedtime, chamber pot style, since he still loves to take his diaper off in the morning and ends up peeing on the floor. Matt's been reminding him every night that if he needs to pee in the morning, he should use the potty. He finally did it, AND the diaper he'd slept in was dry. :) (Thankfully the floor was dry too.) So he started the day off with chocolate. :)

Sunday we went to go see How To Train Your Dragon in 3-D (and let me say that that extra D did nothing but detract from the movie). Obviously, since I'm typing this, we survived SG's first in-theater movie. There were MAYBE 6 other people in the theater, thankfully, so when about halfway through, the novelty of a darkened theater got the better of him, he didn't disturb anybody sneaking around the theater. Matt chasing him was pretty funny though.

Speaking of Matt chasing him, I don't think I mentioned about LAST Friday. CW's teacher had emailed us inviting us to the end of quarter third grade awards assembly, because CW was getting an award in Science. She specifically told us that SG would be more than welcome, and to bring him - she and the class had heard so many stories about him, she really needed to meet him. *shakes head* In hindsight, I think it's possible that we were scheduled as the entertainment for this assembly. I was already in the building volunteering in the Book Room, so I walked down to the Assembly room, and met Matt and SG there. A couple of seconds later the kids came in and CW was all sorts of surprised, she'd had no idea about the award or that we were coming.

In his defense, SG was decently good for a few minutes (the whole assembly was maybe 30 minutes total). We were up in the back or the room, behind the kids, so he started by wandering back and forth, talking to the kids in the back row. When some kids were called up to receive their award certificates he started counting them, giggling ensued. Then when it became apparent that he was not going to come back and sit with us, and he was simply being a distraction, we decided that Matt would take him out of the room. Easier said than done. Matt ended up running across the back of the room, down the graduated steps that we were sitting on, and across the "stage" where the kids were standing with their award certificates, cracking up the entire room. Oops.

Later that afternoon, I was waiting outside of CW's classroom to take her home after dismissal. One of the other third-graders walked by me, looked at me, and stopped. "Your baby is FUNNY!" Yeah. Thanks kid. :)

This past Friday was interesting as well. He'd been REALLY happy and enthralled with Little Einsteins episodes I was pulling from the On Demand Freebie section. He didn't want to take a shower with me, so I gambled, and left him watching an episode, while I went upstairs. I came down after my shower, and he was 5 minutes into Alvin and the Chipmunk's: The Squeakquel. "Mommy! I watcha SQUEEEAK!!" It took me a few seconds of digging to confirm my suspicion that yes, it was a PAY movie, and he'd just spent $5 on it. Dammit. We need to figure out if we can make it so that a code has to be entered to but them...

And long live Freecycle! CW has been asking for a piano/keyboard for a few months now. I kept telling her that it was too expensive. Last Tuesday I noticed a Freecycle post offering a Casiotone 701 keyboard! We managed to snag it and it's up in CW's room now. She loves it! So does SG, for that matter. It's really old and has a minor buzz, so she can't turn it up too loud...damn. :)

Last week when I went to the store, I purchased and brought home jumbo corn muffins. At some point during the afternoon, while CW and I were out getting our allergy shots, SG ate most of one, and had left crumbs all over the living room. Not surprising in the least.

Later that evening, Matt took him upstairs to get ready for bed, and I followed a few minutes later when it was evident from the noise that things were not proceeding smoothly. I noticed a substantial trail of corn muffin crumbs going up the stairs, but somehow dismissed it when it didn't go past the top step.

Helped out with bedtime, and ended up offering SG the option of coming into our room and laying down to watch Star Trek with me. He immediately calmed down and happily agreed, so we went into our room...where we discovered the rest of the rather large corn muffin shredded and spread out all over Matt's side of the bed.

While vacuuming it out of the bed, I caught myself trying so hard not to smile or laugh that I was kind of bug-eyed, and my tongue was stuck in my cheek. It dawned on me that it was the same expression I'd seen SO MANY TIMES on my grandmother's face.

I'm so sorry Gramma. I understand now. :)

"I learned it by watching YOU!"

Bear was acting up this morning - apparently he would NOT sit down.

"Sit down bear."
"Sit DOWN bear!"
"One, two, free..."
WHACK!
"I flick."


On the plus side, he RARELY lets us get to three...and I think he's retaining the idea longer than CW did. She frequently would push us to three. I used to think she was just forgetful, but now I'm SURE she was always forgetting it. That girl forgets EVERYTHING.

Another difference between the two of them, he sings along with tv shows, and responds when they need a response. CW never did that, she'd usually look at the tv like it was some sort of strange alien civilization. He also is more apt to use the tv as background noise than she was. She's ALWAYS gotten sucked in if the tv was on, he'll play and do stuff while it's on.

He won't let me (any of us really) dance or sing. "Stop it Mommy! STOP IT!"
CW and I will occasionally BOTH start dancing and set him off - he just doesn't know what to do when TWO of us are doing it... :)

CW's homework yesterday was to go outside and play, which was fine...except for the fact that she left the front door unlocked and SG got out. Thankfully he went straight to the backyard to retrieve his car, giving Matt enough time to catch him...I was upstairs doing stuff., so Matt was in charge, or at least as much as anyone can be with that boy.

:)